The Lift Poem by abhro bhattacharjee

maybe 3 by 3 but of glistening steel
a complete turn, still a similar feel
on either sides those shutting doors
one of reflection
the other brute magnetic force

a turn again to the multitude
those once twinkling eyes
now frigid...shrewd
a tapping foot, those fidgety palms
the cracking knuckles
for once, the unwanted calm

from up above or through the walls
the humming breeze, of might too small
for no human sense, did it touch
in tufts the hair fluttered
and the linen danced much

the lonely petal on the cascade fall
the solitary listener to the breeze's call
for every vein on the surface red
chirped in joyance at the changing fret

hierarchical journey either way
so many people, each one Grey
oh! so many stops! on every smirk
the passing feet and the following jerk