Depths An Old Man Reaches.

How do you remain, like daisies,
Unfurled drops of rain
that falls slowly
Down from infinite reaches,
spaces that are divided.
Slowly moving, rhythms blend
with the riches

Around you, a trial of chances,
a beam of
Darkness that lights up a mirror and speaks of voices.
Slowly, they come, melting into the dark that
Does not fade to gray,
shadows open up
A tendril daffodil and shelter(ed) things remain.

So softly, teardrops fall to the countertop;
A letter is stained with droplets of tears.
My memory sifts in sunlit rooms; a door opens
Into twilight.

I am caught in the middle
between floors.
I plead to the security
guard for breathing room,
But he shakes his head,
mumbles curses under
His breath, and scurries away to join the old
Man standing at the end
of the stairwell.