Walls of Secrets

One wall provides a beginning,

Two walls accommodate a corner,

Three walls create an open enclosure,

Four walls become a room,

Five walls mean a ceiling preventing any escape.

If rooms could talk,

They would likely divulge secrets,

Those experiences that are hushed,

Where exposure outside of the room

Might cause distress to one or many.

The walls keep the room quiet,

But walls inhale and exhale,

Their sentinels standing tall,

Their whispers vibrate the quietness

With duty to guard the secrets,

Of which,

Each room has many.

Like a caged eye, the imagined window in the door

Is wired as one might expect for a bird in captivity,

A prison of sorts,

Allowing the gazing forth of walls

Longing for freedom,

Even as they know their plight

Is permanence,

Save lengthy deuteriation.

Each fissure in the walls

Exposes the weight of time

Where cracks enjoin with stains

Accompanying the journey of solitude

With embraces of the silence

The melancholy.

Holding fast their guard,

The bulwarks watch the shadows dance

As the window’s light filters through

Dust motes presenting a silent ballet

Of dusk and dawn,

The celebratory nature of aging.

Oh, how they dream,

These walls of confinement,

Peering upward,

Dreaming beyond the ceiling

Where they have heard are open skies,

Wings that whisper tales of faraway lands,

Even though they stay true to their purpose,

Remaining steadfast and strong,

Embracing the room in their patient hands.

Some say they’ve heard the walls whisper.

So, what if the walls can talk?