Street

I live on a street, shape of half heart

Connected to two arteries

It is a pregnant street with children

Of no father, no mother and no future

Houses are lined up on both sides

To cover the faces of neighbors

Who never talk to each other

And buried in their own solitude

It is a quiet street with low traffic,

No noise, no excitement, and no personality

In night, low light makes it mysterious

And if you are gloomy, mystic

Occasionally a dog catcher drives through

Empty handed, and disappointed

When it rains, it is asymmetric

As the rain drops have the minds of their own

Nature is subject to compromise