all around, four
walls
silent, gazing,
unmoved but there
they have seen
people come and go
and they have only
been fair
to hear, not hear
but stand still, at
ease
and speak or not
speak of
what transpired -
tumult or bliss?
if they could speak
if they could tell
each other
what they thought of
some
and what they
thought of the others
would they speak of
the people
the ones that came
in and walked out...
would they speak of
the silence
and how some souls
ramble about?
joined shoulder to
shoulder
looking at each
other night and day
would they talk
about the lonely eyes
that stared at them
from near yet away
about the passion
shared,
and would they speak
of the throes
the gasps and the
shudder and the whispers?
would they talk
about everything they've heard and known?
of the lonely soul
that longed for company
the listless couple
that longed to be alone
of the kindly soul
with a smile of gold?
and the cruel man
with a heart of stone?
would they cry with
the broken hearts
and shed tears of
joy and sorrow as shed?
launch sighs at the
sighful moments
and shudder as they
see things they dread?
they might, they
might not
we dont know but
people, they
will come and they
will go - journey
through their lives
and at some point stay
enclosed by these
walls, looking up, wondering
do they see and hear
me? will they
talk about me
when am gone?
they might, they
might not - that's all i can say...
David Antony
03/21
