Hidden Currents

In the gutter, the litter waits, tangled and sad,

A world swept away, left behind, feeling bad.

Each piece of discarded life tells a tale in its grime,

Of moments forgotten, washed down with the time.

Leaves swirl like memories trapped in their fate,

Each drain holds a history, both light and ornate.

The rain made it simple, a cleansing embrace,

Yet left me with questions of loss in its place.

I ponder the stories, what brought them to rest,

In the shadows of sidewalks, where we rarely invest.

As the water rushes past, I catch a refrain:

Even beauty gets buried, all that slips down the drain.