On walls and Truth

Poem written by Greg on Sunday 28, January 2018

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Funny things, these walls we surround ourselves with

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When walls talk they show themselves untrue Is sturdy the house built on bluffs or shores of blue? Does the untrue wall echo loud with children's calls or their dreams that bounce within? Tell me, does it talk at all? If a dish was never served or father's laughter never heard nor warm embrace through the door a frozen winter visitor Is it still a wall, a door, a hall, a floor? If talking walls are plumb and straight they know the sound of swinging gate, of whispers told by evening fire the floorboards sing lover's desire Now fill it with love complete or a cold indifference Kept your trinkets in bags unpacked with tags Thus every line must have its end these walls witness to fading friends and life, so too will later pass her truth is in these crooked walls and broken glass Eventually all beauty fades scarred walls and crumbled brick will tell the tales of driven nails and weathered, trampled faded skin Leaning walls give a final groan as her memories scream once more, returned to the ground as stone and root the truth of these walls... renewed.

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    No comment: just so you know somebody tried to read it.
    Thanks for that Smile
    I liked it. I would add some punctuation. As I was reading, I felt as if there was a natural sense of pace and timing. You may want to add punctuation to indicate that.