If These Walls Could Talk

they probably wouldn’t. They would sing instead, since talking for them, Has no melody, you see... These walls, serenade the shadows, dancing on every side, Like a fast midnight ride... There are upside down, silhouettes of every song I've heard, I've sang or have written-bitten with heartache and loneliness; These songs have passed the test in my endurance... These sad songs, I play over and over between my jazz piano And they hang from the ceiling like slow time's candled chandeliers. These walls don’t tell their secrets…it would Serve no purpose; they have no rhyme. These walls have held my life's trinkets with rare eminence, Photographs, clocks, paintings, handbags, wedding dresses prom dresses, tuxedos, all silent, as the music that expresses the muse inside my heart when awake or asleep. Yes, if these walls would talk they'd ask whose business is it any way. They would whisper "caution" into a window breeze. They would Sing my favorite lyrics, Just as I wrote and sung them. "Quiet Please! Let this dream be all of him that belongs to me held in silence within these four walls.