……over the edge

Hear your steps,

in this unseen place

feet ringing on the stairs

in the deserted throat

of this ’30’s beast,

smacking the tread

pirouettes shatter tip toes

and echoes concrete despair

practicing clips and prances.

 

The sort of shoes

that have no cares

sound that cracks the air

and spellbinding footfall shared,

the clatter recedes

into the well of night

onto the club or pub

where feet will be paired,

beside my pillow I hear your steps.