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Walls

Author: Margaret Grant

When I came back that day
after everything had happened, I thought
you didn’t remember me.
We were your first guests after all
and you took care of us.

I could see you shivering
in the January chill as I ran from the car
the weeping snow
slipped the key in the lock.
Inside you were pink-blue cold.

We said our hellos
your hand in mine
formal and firm, still
an ocean of memory
between us.

I wandered
I wandered your days your years
sank into the echoes of
dreams coloured
rainbow bright
drank laughter
spilling like spring showers.
I caught the whispers of time
opening their wings
learning to fly hinged
to this family of mine.
I heard the doors to our heart flutter
as night came.

Too soon
a man has come
to take measurements, photographs
make notes.
How could he know
the pockets of these walls brim
full with treasure.

Tell him, walls
Tell him
Others will come.