If walls could talk,
they’d hear a man
breathing all alone
as he stares longingly
out the window
watching a young robin
build her cozy nest
for a family quickly coming.
If walls could talk,
they’d hear the shuffle
of routine feet
assisting the man
from the chair to bed
and back again,
and the barrage of insults
issuing from a man
exhausted from sitting
for so long.
If walls could talk,
they’d hear an old man
fumble with his phone,
punching in the only
number he knows,
waiting and hoping
to hear her voice.
“Maybe tonight,”
they hear him whisper,
but they know the truth,
that number’s been
disconnected for three years
and it’s only the dementia
keeping the old man’s
love and drive alive
in this quiet nursing home.
If walls could talk,
they might say,
“I’m sorry
your robin’s flown away,
but it’s ok to let go
and fly too”
