Walls That Never Spoke Before

in my robe
The rain sprinkles its thoughts
ever so gently around me

Purest of words
lay scattered at my feet.
Thought in flight
above me

The silence I covet
at times...convinces me
truth lay not far from home

Between the fonts
along with graphics
lay a swan song
destined to be as simple
as the man whom portrays
mannerisms and ghosts of
Knights or Kings

In the court of poets
and artisans
many are trampled
under foot and protest
of silent swarms

Winter gives birth to spring
the words still call me by name
as I look at the dye on my fingers
and walls that never spoke before.

by Cee Bea

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