Balcony Blues at 830 Cleveland

At 830 Cleveland, Apartment 2,
A tale of chaos comes into view.
The awning leans, a wooden crutch,
A fragile fix, but not by much.

The siding’s ripped, the beams laid bare,
A storm? A fire? Who knows what’s there.
A mountain bike waits in the cold,
Its owner’s story yet untold.

Did they race the wind, a trail to chase,
Before disaster struck this place?
Now paused mid-ride, they mend and mend,
Hoping the cracks will heal again.

A balcony holds what can’t be said,
A home that’s bruised but far from dead.
Resilience stands where shadows loom,
At 830 Cleveland, a quiet bloom.