Distance—a corroded lamp by the street,
Some trees incline in a windless shush,
A narrow, lone path meanders between.
And there—a red house, austere and still.
At times, I stand by its broken gate,
And pause where silence thickens
I listen—though nothing moves or stirs,
The evening descends like a vague veil
Over the roof, the branches, and the dust.
Like a fool, I remain in taciturn awe
The dusk gradually engulfs the lone place.
I cherish the notion you might have come,
And sit here long in a numbed trance.
If you ask me why, I could not elucidate.
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 12:20 PM UTC
Distance—a corroded lamp by the street,
Some trees incline in a windless shush,
A narrow, lone path meanders between.
And there—a red house, austere and still.
At times, I stand by its broken gate,
And pause where silence thickens
I listen—though nothing moves or stirs,
The evening descends like a vague veil
Over the roof, the branches, and the dust.
Like a fool, I remain in taciturn awe
The dusk gradually engulfs the lone place.
I cherish the notion you might have come,
And sit here long in a numbed trance.
If you ask me why, I could not elucidate.
