My Upstairs Neighbors
My building has ten stories,
Sixteen homes on every floor,
And most of them have strangers
Who reside behind each door.
My ninth floor neighbors smile and we
May chat while waiting for
An elevator to arrive;
We have a nice rapport.
Yet I have no true friendships
Where I live, but on that score,
That’s very common in New York,
Both for the rich and poor.
Some tenants have their little quirks
I try hard to ignore,
Though nothing really serious
I haven’t seen before.
My upstairs neighbors may exceed
What tolerance I store
Within my hands-off self
And make me just a little sore.
For noises that I can’t explain
And hammering galore
Disturb the peace I once enjoyed
And don’t have anymore.
Of course, it’s New York City,
Which has clamor at its core,
But I wish my upstairs neighbors
Lived on any other floor.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
