His Elevator

A finger pushes a button as they wait on the first floor.

For the day to unfold. Going to a job to task once more.

The button goes out. The steel doors open wide.

Many different people shuffle in, some move with a glide.

Doors close. Temporarily, they are trapped inside.

Together, owning their personal, professional pride.

A large motor now runs, giving a cable great tension.

The cubicle moves. A counterbalance helps with suspension.

Upward motion. Piercing silence is naturally made.

All thinking about their job today, and their trade.

A Janitor inside gives a broad wish of “Good morning.”

Many reply kindly, as one woman looks at him, scorning.

Second floor reached. Some leave, going their own way.

The cleaning man says for all to hear, “Have a good Day.”

Doors close quietly. The silence again grows deep.

Silence to the third floor. Nobody says a peep.

The doors open punctually, as some others leave.

Floor sweeper says, “Take care.” Gives silence a reprieve.

The doors seal them in. Moves to the fourth floor.

Again, doors spread. Some worry what’s in store.

Two leave, then doors shut. Again, still silence is born.

Still inside with the caretaker is the lady with great scorn.

To floor five, inside is a group of lawyers.

On this floor are their legal employers.

Three men get out. All wearing suit and tie.

Cleaning man says, “Good day.” “And goodbye.”

No reply is spoken. They walk away real fast.

He’s a lowly man, in their minds he was cast.

In walks a woman of beauty and splendor so great.

He says, “Good morning.” Hoping goodness to advocate.

She ignored him as if he wasn’t even there.

Of herself and her beauty was her only care.

Doors close. Floor six was her pick.

When the doors opened, she left quick.

Doors closed. Now he is alone with the woman of scorn.

Then her phone rang. Into the silence, a sound was born.

The twelfth floor is where she was headed.

Her phone call was something she dreaded.

First slow tears. Then she broke out and cried.

Her brother was calling. Telling their mother died.

Janitor looks into her, as nobody else was there.

He was compelled to give her God’s gentle loving care.

Approaches her slowly. Kindly asked, “What can I do.”

She hugs him and cries on his shoulder. That’s his cue.

He rides with her to floor number one.

She says, “I’m sorry that you I had shun.”

They said goodbye. She gave him thanks with care.

He told her he would give her mother a great prayer.

Funny thing. The twelfth floor was not his destination.

His is the second floor. He was just building God’s foundation.

Kasey Dann.