First floor, second, up I run,
Here he is, the familiar man,
Always there, between
The second floor and the third.
Cracks in the stone stair
Portray him, visible only to me,
I never fail to meet
His eyeless stare.

Third floor, second, first,
Down I went, never turning back,
Continents away,
No regrets, no despair,
No cracks in the stairs,
I use an elevator today.

Why then if I drift
Toward the past,
To the shabby house
Of my childhood years,
The first face I see
Is him, always there,
Etched on the stone stair.
I never fail to meet
His eyeless stare.