Dark. Hidden. Abandoned.
A mold of wax sits on the window sill.
From a candle that died out some years ago.
To the eye of an observer…
A useless stack of wood.
In the eyes of the beholder…
Escape. Refuge. Bliss.
Inside, the stale aroma of decaying timber.
A worn-out mattress in one far corner.
Above it, a nail bolted into the wall.
Where a picture crookedly hangs.
If these walls could talk.
What a story it would tell.
A story of love forbidden.
A story I know so well.
A ramshackle cabin lost in the woods.
Where the lovers would meet.
A candle sits on the window sill.
Casting shadows on the walls inside.
It was there they made a lasting vow.
To love. To cherish. To return.
It was there they shunned out the world.
The distance. The obstacles. The doubt.
On the mattress they lay.
And awakened each dawn.
To say goodbye. To part ways.
To again succumb to the call of night.
If these walls could talk.
What a story it would tell.
A story of love forbidden.
A story I know so well.
A ramshackle cabin lost in the woods.
Where the lovers bid each other farewell.
The candle by the window sill.
Melted. Diminished. Died out.
Within these four walls.
They lay in complete darkness.
So neither would have to see the other cry.
To see the other walk away.
They made a binding promise.
That one day, someday, soon.
When the world would let them be.
To love. To cherish. To return.
If these walls could talk.
What a story it would tell.
A story of love forbidden.
A story I know so well.
A ramshackle cabin lost in the woods.
Dark. Hidden. Abandoned.
A mold of wax sits on the window sill.
From a candle that died out some years ago.
Slowly, I draw near and enter.
A whole different world.
A world of vivid memories.
Of escape. Of refuge. Of bliss.
I take the picture down from the wall.
A teardrop falls on the reflection.
Of lovers I had once known.
Lovers whose story has long since ended.
Then the door creaks open behind me.
And I stand my ground.
Footsteps echo towards me.
Patiently, I wait.
No confusion. No fear. No doubt.
A hand rests on my shoulder.
And I know who it is.
If these walls could talk.
What a story it would tell.
A story of love lost.
A story of love found.
A story I know so well.
