Three Floors
Mother was a crack of light
and a grey eye peeping
I made believe by breathing hard
That I was sleeping.
Sister's doughboy on last leave
Had robbed me of her hand:
Downstairs at intervals she played
Warum on the baby grand.
Under a roof a wardrobe trunk
Whose lock a boy could pick
Containing a red Masonic hat
And a walking stick.
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