Elevator

A sonnet

Photo by William J Spirdione

“Show us the way, we’re not, the waiting kind.”
“We need to be on the fortieth floor.”
To the uniformed man, the three friends whine,
Following down the hall and through the door.

“What year please?” asked the man with strange diction.
“Where are we?” one friend asked of the others.
“Did we walk into the realm of fiction?”
“I’d leave right now if I had my druthers.”

All watch the man spin the control handle.
How much of one's life does a person choose.
Think too much, you might end up in scandal.
Elevator slowly started to move.

Never to stop for the rest of their lives.
Use your heads, people, that some will survive.