One day my living room wall <br />Began to talk to me <br />And, naturally enough, <br />A reply was obligatory. <br /> <br />Trying to make conversation, <br />I remarked on the warm weather <br />We enjoyed that time of year. <br />This proved a mistake, however. <br /> <br />For, quite unaccountably, <br />The wallpaper started to fall <br />In great white strips <br />From off the wall. <br /> <br />Until the wall stood there <br />White and naked before me, <br />Revealed in its primal state, <br />In all its plastered glory. <br /> <br />Unhappy at this development, <br />I said out loud that I was a fool <br />To expect any sense <br />From nothing but a brick wall. <br /> <br />Its response was a stolid <br />Sort of a silence. <br />(I could certainly tell <br />It had taken offence.) <br /> <br />And knowing that walls have ears <br />And hurt feelings are hard to mend, <br />As it gave me its wall-eyed stare <br />I felt I had lost a friend. <br /> <br />And even though I took care <br />When the cold weather came <br />To wallpaper it over, <br />Things were never the same: <br /> <br />Talking to the wall all the time now <br />No sign does it evince <br />That it's even listening. <br />And it hasn't spoken to me since.<br /><br />Paul Lester<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/talking-to-a-wall/
