The Forgotten Wall
On one of those frozen festive nights,
Embellished with tiny, twinkling lights,
Lay the long forgotten wall covered in moss, cold and damp.
The Wall was revived by the warmth from the lamp.
Under the dazzle of the faint glow
The Wall had several marks to show.
A chip on the edge from a cricket bat.
A linear scratch, halfway, where the chair sat.
A tiny hole at the top with rust from an old screw.
And a big crack down, where the Bougainvillea grew.
The Wall could narrate a lengthy tale
From when the paint was fresh to when it got stale.
The Wall remembers the years when it was left alone.
It has been age since the twinkling lights shone.
New voices and new face. New people had come to stay.
The old Wall recalls that this was always the way.
The old would leave and the new would come,
And the Wall would witness and record it, standing numb.
No one remembered the Wall, once they were gone.
The Wall always recalled the stories of the marks when it was alone.