A Poem on the Power of Pronouns

She walks through doors long left behind,

A name unspoken, a past confined.

He stands, a smile, a knowing glance,

A memory sparked, a second chance.

She laughs, she lingers, fingers trace,

A world of words in time and space.

He listens close, the stories flow,

A book unopened, yet to know.

But strip the words that name the two,

Erase the lines that let them move—

Now read the tale, a hollow shell,

A lifeless drift where none can dwell.

A traveler steps, a store stands still,

A figure waits, a void to fill.

A hand extends, a voice does call,

Yet echoes fade—no one at all.

Pronouns paint the world with light,

Give shape to souls, to wrongs, to right.

Without their touch, the stories fade,

A shadowed path, a nameless shade.