Time sets my tone
peeling my paint and stone.
Water floods my floors
reflecting your thoughts.
Doors hinge on me swinging
to memories singing in the winds.
Glasses lay shattered
reminding you of lives scattered.
I know every deed you wish to atone
now that you are on your own.
Your soul no longer soars
even though you kept scores.
I remember you falling in love but never calling.
Regret sorts true love from whims
a lesson in silence from those departed.
Now you listen without being bothered.
My walls may be made of stone
but what I’ve seen breaks more than bone.
My floors may be damp and full of cracks
but they heard your loss and felt your hurts.
We are done talking because you are leaving
in my walls your thoughts to live in the minds
of those we know time battered
but are no longer gathered.
If walls could talk they would be a point of reference to recount the true story of every human tragedy and joy. If walls could talk, they would show more sympathy and understanding because they can listen for a lifetime without leaving. If walls could talk, they could correct us endlessly and never lose patience with us or get broken because of us. This piece is a symbolic chat between a spirit that came to visit the remains of their home as a farewell and closure because it was still holding on to loved ones they lived with once among these walls.