She watches the walls

Breathing in 

Grey reflections,

Spitting out shrouded giants

With elongated hands,

Grasping their shoulders,

Shuddering, she wonders

How they fail to notice

Their surroundings.

Stepping out from the walls

Like monkey bars at the play park,

Swinging from one step to

The next, not knowing 

What is beneath them.

Drops of crumbled rocks

Fall in the place of rain

And she catches them,

Clasps at the continuity

Of their thuds and echoes,

Erasing the memories of

Red bricked houses,  now

Leaking their secrets

Down the drain, 

streaming through paths not yet made

For walking.

Seeping from the walls, then

Leaking oily fluid 

Through their windpipe,

Breaking down the walls,

Resembling no more

Than smudges of your face

On an old stamped envelope.