Floor Count

I tap the panel, fingers tracing a slow code,

counting floors like secret beats in a silent ode.

“Two, three, four,” my lips barely part—

a whisper lost before it can start.

The hum tightens around this metal box,

my fingertips drum out the ticking clocks.

Alone but loud in this cramped, humming room,

I talk to the numbers like they’ll change the gloom.

Counting floors like prayers, soft and dumb,

until the doors click and the spell comes undone.