The lift opens On the fourth floor Exactly as it did yesterday Exactly as it will tomorrow The coffee machine still tastes Like warm disappointment The volunteer at reception Still wears the same smile Like a uniform A man is reading a magazine He hasn't turned the page in twenty minutes I know because I've been watching Everything except the clock Not melodramatic Simply observant We talk about television The weather A dog neither of us owns The sandwich I bought downstairs The woman in the next bed Who complains about everything As if ordinary things Still matter Maybe they do Maybe that's the point The world keeps happening Even here At some point The conversation runs out And nobody panics You close your eyes I look out the window At the car park At the clouds At a pigeon Walking with complete confidence Across a roof And somehow That feels important Nobody tells you How much love is repetition Not weddings Not anniversaries Not declarations Just showing up Again Again Again Again Until the act itself Becomes the language Until presence becomes speech And silence becomes company Visiting hours end The corridor fills With coats And flowers And unfinished thoughts I stand You wave Neither of us says The thing we're thinking The thing that hangs there Like another person In the room Tomorrow I'll bring better coffee A better story A better version of brave But today I came And today You were here And somehow That was enough
