It waits IN BETWEEN, where no one looks.

A soft Ding,

An ascent meant only for those who know.

No view. Just the heat of flame,
 the clink of something poured well,
 and the hush of velvet keeping secrets.

You won’t see signs.
 You’ll feel them.

In thirty days, the doors will open.
 But only for the ones who’ve been listening.