The Stone Confidants

This poem personifies the walls as silent, eternal listeners and keepers of human secrets.

The plaster breathes, but not with lung or sigh,
It takes the air that busy tongues let fly.
They call the chamber quiet, safe, and closed,
Oblivious to what the brick composed.

For every wall is memory made dense,
A spine of stone, an innocent pretense
Of simple barrier, of painted wood,
That only serves to frame where life has stood.

The secrets settle in the mortar's dust,
The hasty oaths, the whispers born of trust,
The sharp rejoinders, cruel words spat in haste,
Are filed away, no single syllable erased.

In darkness, when the floorboards cease to creak,
The silent archives of the dwelling speak.
A tapestry of sound, faint and profound,
Where ancient sorrows ceaselessly rebound.

The ceiling beams hold echo of the lies,
The sun-flecked window glass still frames the cries.
They hear the future, for they've heard the past,
The silent witnesses, forever built to last.