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
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.