Take me to the rooms, where the walls can talk <br />of those stories told of what they've stored <br />imbedded in their walls, of board and chalk. <br /> <br />Behind their paper flowers faded <br />cove molding and their nails. <br />Releasing all the things they've heard for years <br />telling of all those kept wall tales. <br /> <br />The laughter they heard of children <br />the crying heard by some. <br />The songs of Christmas Karol's <br />within four walls drunk in like a sponge. <br /> <br />Please take me room to room <br />so I might listen to them all. <br />Then when we're done with our walk <br />let's go hear what they're saying down the hall.<br /><br />Linda Winchell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/where-the-walls-can-talk/
