Walls know stuff. They’ve seen the arguments, the passion and the joy of living. And, long after the people have left, they tell the story.
A lover knocked, the door opened, arms reached out for comfort.
Put your hat on the shelf over there, she said, smiling coyly.
Dancing to the kitchen, she asked if he’d like some coffee.
I even stoked the geyser, should you want to freshen up, she said.
I have no time, he answered heavily. The war….
And he left her standing in the doorway, waiting.
She’s still there. She, the walls…and the sand…