Firmament...

The lights that are always on,
     the doors that never close;
     a tired familiarity
     to the sights, the smells...
Just close you eyes,
     cover your ears,
     still, you would know
     where you are
     by the contour of the chairs,
     the antiseptic smell in the air,
     the taste of alcohol in your mouth...
Magic doors and there's always chores;
     no one's standing still,
     even the ladies
     behind the reception desk
     swing their seats slowly
     side to side,
     one foot on the ground,
     the other on a rung...
Early morning calm
     before the storm
     after the night's shower
     washed the streets clean...
Now they sparkle and gleam
     in the early daylight...
Angels, arise...
Resume your fight...
          June 9, 2014