Walking Home

Walking Home

The pavement stretched the same as always,

Each step one you’ve walked before,

Yet something in the empty street,

Made it feel unlike before.

The houses stood with curtains drawn,

Lives unfolding out of sight,

You passed them by without a sound,

A quiet figure in the night.

A car went by and faded out,

Leaving nothing in its wake,

The kind of silence that remains,

Long after something seems to break.

You checked your pace without a need,

Not slow, not fast, just moving through,

A steady rhythm keeping time,

With thoughts that stayed between the two.

There’s nothing here to cause concern,

No threat, no reason to turn back,

Just space that opens up too wide,

Along a well familiar track.

You think of things you left unsaid,

Of moments that did not quite land,

And how they follow quietly,

Without a shape to understand.

The road continues as it should,

Unchanged by what you bring along,

Yet every step begins to feel,

Like somewhere you no longer belong.

And when you reach your door at last,

And step inside, away from view,

You leave the night behind your back,

Yet take a part of it with you.

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