a poem Without Meaning
returning to the brick-walled dampness of that place
can leave you with a sense of dread
akin to that of waiting for an age-old friend
to return a call you never gave them
while you peer into their eyes in the hallway,
hopeful,
but complete strangers now,
for neither knows the other
or the shiver down your shoulders
that creeps behind your eyes
and around the front of your temples
during the cold of the early morning,
sipping coffee and leaning against the counter
in anticipation
of someone waking up
to the creaking of the steps
or the rapid pounding of your heartbeat
and the breaking of the mug that s t i n g s your fingertips
so when the last bell rings its song
a mournful sound for all to hear
don't forget the building
for it is a warning sign, you see
to stay away from the cold and dead
d r i p s
of that damp brick-walled building you used to love
death lies there