SONNET FOR A STAIRWELL

ev'ry day I must face the dread stairwell
At the end of the hall, filled with debris
Of old apples and ice cream cones, that fell
Upon the steps of this dorm by the sea.
When I'm tired, I must climb all those steps
That lead up and up, and tire me yet more
Than I already am -- I need to rest
My weary body when I reach my floor.
But still, O Stairwell, I enjoy the way
You keep the temperature so perfect
For me -- you are always cool in the day,
And warm at night -- no flaw can I detect.
So, I'm glad I don't live on the eighth floor,
'Cos then I would take the elevator.

26 Jan 1988