The street divides in even halves,
faces shuffling like playing cards.
Some cast light without knowing it,
their laughter spilling, their warmth whole.
Others pull at you, unseen weights,
their shadows stretch, and they linger.
A fountain bleeds an endless giving,
its edges worn from too much hope.
A drain murmurs softly in corners,
pulling with patience, without pause.
We meet them both, sometimes unsure—
which we are, which shape we hold.
And walking home, under quiet skies,
the street lamps hum, answers withheld.
The world breathes in options we bear:
giving or taking what can't return.
-
Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: February 6th, 2026 10:06
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments2
Well written. Your poem delves into the nature of human relationships, the balance of emotional investments, and the choices we make in our interactions with others. It portrays how some people radiate positivity and warmth, while others may draw energy and joy away from us.
Brilliant!! magnificent Gray I felt this one in context with the state of the world today and how we are split in beliefs and views shuffled together. How we all cast light and darkness without knowing how we affect others. There are so many that need pulling and giving never seems to end. Hope wears thin with years of wear. Drained we remain unsure of which way to go. As we return home to where we all came from never getting the answers we seek we have choices to make with no way of going back or changing what we do. Very deep my friend and a definite fave
Thanks for sharing your generous feedback I appreciate your thoughts on my work
You are most welcome Gray your work needs greater recognition.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.