My poem, 'Elevator Music' is about struggle and loss, wrapped in art and music.

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He was whistling along to the elevator music

watching the elevator numbers race by

he would’ve counted the steps if he’d walked them

without the counting he was quickly released

to his whistle at ground level

where the sunshine raged against the glass

begging entry into an empty lifeless space

Would it be the chromatic scale or the arpeggio?

the scale would be a difficult tune to whistle

the ascending and descending would annoy his colleagues

as they tried to hear the diatonic escape

We attempted to scale the follies of success

falling like feathers off a broken wing

floating away finding the breeze

like a song stretching to replace a riff

I picked up my burning oils and tools

pondered the restoration of my oldest work

left in the basement near the elevator

beside the remnants of a love affair

I placed my hands against the canvas

touched her heart her breasts her mouth

I refused to scrape away blistering paint

and continued to rub my hand over hers

By Jay Maria Simpson

From: Australia

Website: https://livingdangerously618190523.wordpress.com/

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/jaymaria.simpson