Long and Cold Night

[Zerbricht]

I posted this for another reason, but I'm curious to see what others think of it as a poem.

 

The night is long and cold.

Streetlights cast their light into this road, but give no warm to it.

I stand alone in the middle of this street in between two homes.

One has a troubled look to it, but also welcoming, and warm, and new.

The other gives off a foreboding aura, and feels cold.

The first has its door wide open, while the other is boarded shut.

I can not make up my mind as to which house to go to.

So there I stand; on this long and cold night.

From the first home comes a hand that beckons me to come.

The second, shows no such signs, but remains adamant, and cold towards me.

So there I stand, torn between two homes, on a long and cold night.