painted walls
I ended up in this life—I have no idea how—
and along the way, I realized that the room—vast as it was—
had neither doors nor windows. "Had none" is an understatement, for they *were* there,
only behind the windows and doors lay painted walls—
depicting various scenes, various times of day, various faces.
And I swear, I’ve tried so many things in my life;
perhaps one day, a wall will fall,
letting me see the unseen, hear the unheard,
see, feel, hear, and taste the untasted.
But until then,
I must keep opening doors and windows,
because one never knows
what lies behind them.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
