The Memory of a Wall

I am a wall

I have seen things

I have felt the backs of hiding lovers

I have heard secrets whispered low

I have borne the weight of war posters

and children's drawings

They wrote words of love and hate upon me

they covered me in paint

they cracked my stone

but I am still standing

I am the skin of the city

the memory of the street

and if you press your ear against me

perhaps you will hear

the echo of all the hearts

that beat once

on my side of life.