The Corner That Waits

There once was a corner so still,

half-shadow, half-thought, half a thrill.

The lights softly shone,

but I wondered, alone

what breath fills this space when it’s still?

Do the echoes start whispering late?

Do the walls hum the songs they create?

When the footsteps are gone,

does the silence move on

or linger to ponder its fate?

It’s nothing too strange, just a spark,

a musing that hums in the dark.

Where the world blurs its seams

between waking and dreams

that’s where wonder remembers its mark.

And maybe it’s nothing at all,

just the quiet remembering you.