Her smile stretches wider than daylight,
a soft halo lighting her sharp grin.
She tilts her head, spills warmth freely,
honey-dripped syllables coating her tongue.
You think kindness lives in her throat,
but words twist sharp when backs turn.
She walks softly, whispers heavily,
a wind scattering seeds unbidden, unseen.
Behind curtains, reputations unspool, unravel.
Her laughter lingers, sweet and sour.
The air thickens with stories she braids,
spine-tingling whispers wrought with malice.
Still, she waves like an old lighthouse.
Her glow traps the weary like moths.
We smile back, unsure, complicit,
the perfect audience for her quiet storm.
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: January 29th, 2026 04:53
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments2
Brilliant! Your use of metaphor is superb Gray this poem unfolds with each line filled with small joys to tickle the mind. A fave
Thanks Soren I appreciate your feedback and support
Most welcome Gray
great write , we all have similiar neighbours
Thanks Norman I appreciate your feedback
you are welcome
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