THE WALLS THAT LISTEN

THE WALLS THAT LISTEN

The walls that listen
But do not speak,
They take what they want
From conversations each week.

They turn the other cheek,
Mysteriously there,
Still they listen quietly,
As though they have an ear.

You move into a house,
All shiny and new,
But what happened before it
You never really knew.

What stood on the ground
Before bricks ever came,
Who laughed there, who cried there,
Who whispered a name?

Nobody knows
Which way it will tilt,
Whether joy fills the rooms,
Or sorrow and guilt.

Will it be a happy home?
Will it somehow feel damned?
Will it sit there quietly,
Making no demand?

Will it absorb all your years,
Every laugh, every tear,
Every secret spoken,
Thinking nobody could hear?

Children play happy,
Their laughter infectious,
Running through rooms
So warm and precious.

The walls take it all,
Every smile, every sound,
Every little memory
That gathers around.

Then something may happen,
And everything’s changed,
Granny has died,
Granddad’s gone strange.

The old atmosphere shifts,
The rooms feel not right,
Does Granny appear
At your bed in the night?

Can you hear whispers?
Can you hear them fight?
Is it imagination,
Or something in sight?

Is it really the house
Setting memories free,
Like Granny and Granddad,
And the way things used to be?

Maybe the walls remember,
Maybe they never forget,
Every word ever spoken,
Every laugh, every regret.

So ere I end my poem
On this strange little night,
I still do not know
If I’m wrong or I’m right.

But next time you sit
In a room all alone,
Just wonder a moment
What those walls might have known.