Louder Than Words

If the walls could talk, what would they say?

Could you imagine the stories they would tell,

of the people they housed, day after day?

Would they say they were tired of holding the roof, or have dreams and desires, or want better pay?

One has to wonder what they might think— if they prefer to be green, and one paints them grey.

Would they be angry for knocking them down, or would they just lie there to be taken away?

And when we cut them, if they would bleed, would we be so hasty to have our own way?

If we could learn from them what would they teach—would they show us the door, or want us to stay?

On a whim, we wallpaper, hang pictures, and paint, cover them with trinkets we bought at The Bay. 

Do they feel shame? Incompetence? Lack of Respect? Do they think they’re too ugly, or worry of decay?

Would they be wise as they gave their advice, based upon decades standing in silent survey?

If the walls could talk, what would they say?Would we think it important, or not even think twice?