Above the Ground

It's too hot, and the sun leans low,

like the golden hour knows my woes,

the fire escape sighs, rusted and bold,

it calls to me with its whispers of old.

A couple sways in the fading light,

while I sit tangled in thoughts of my night,

the bricks close in, a prison of stone,

my solitude sharp, my heart overthrown.

I picture the world beyond these walls,

where laughter rings out, where freedom calls,

yet here I linger, half caught in dreams,

the shadows dance in flickering beams.