It was a strange wall <br />so high and firm <br />with graffiti'd thoughts <br />as far as I could see <br />with such a range of <br />materials <br />smooth lava still hot <br />and wrinkled granite <br />soft soap <br />and dripping wax <br />and I'm told; <br /> <br />I built it. <br /> <br />But I do not <br />remember <br />although each part <br />is so familiar <br />and most strangely <br />one time I found; <br /> <br />a door. <br /> <br />I'm sure it is there <br />somewhere <br />but I cannot find it now <br />and when I found it; <br /> <br />or perhaps it found me. <br /> <br />I fell through <br />and on the other side <br />of that wall; <br /> <br />it was not there.<br /><br />David Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-wall-that-is-not-there/
