The small kitchen only had room for a fridge and a bench,
But it had a window that overlooked the city.
I remember visiting her for the first time, finding her
cutting vegetables next to the stove. She grinned when she saw me and
opened the fridge door,
it banged against the cupboard.
The radio was on, a song she remembered from high school played,
She sang along.
The next time I came to see her she had a guitar in the kitchen
She played it and sang a sad tune.
We watched the lights come up in the city and the old clock chime eleven.
All the other windows in the place faced onto brick walls.
She would have friends over and they would all sing
Their voices melting into one another until it got late
And they started to sound like tomcats, howling at the moon.
The place had a dark dining room with antique furniture,
The bathroom was small and damp,
her bedroom was tidy and filled with books.
But the tiny kitchen was the heart of that apartment.