Avoid

Avoid

In the quiet corners of a fog‑kissed street,
I turn my face away from neon glare,
From honest crowds that rush like winter’s heat,
I walk the path where soft footsteps dare.

I ignore the kitchen counter’s call,
No half‑meals left to rot on the table,
I skip the hectic climb of the bus hall,
And hush the roar of ruined cable.

Avoid the clocks that count the day’s slow fall;
The tick of time that’s never lost on me.
I find a book, a world where I can crawl,
And smell the ink of a fresh‑printed plea.

In the library where aisles wind tight,
My eyes find literature that never fades.
I keep my shoes off the dust of stale delight,
And leave the work that no one ever slays.

No empty glass of post‑tea gloom,
No sigh that blooms in the damp winter.
I choose to ease, not to resume,
The puzzle pieces that are missing.

All the peculiar ways to refrain
From what sprawls on the street’s painted pane.
To pretend a stranger has no name,
And live simply in a soul that’s plain.

Avoid, the whispered word that warms my chest,
A promise kept in every quiet thought.
Forego the endless show the world did best—
And leave the pages of regret uncaught.