Talking To a Wall

Been walking

a path leading to this guy.

Been visiting

every day, talking out troubles.

Been wondering

what I’d do if he talked back,

but he hasn’t, so far.

He’s been listening

without dispensing advice.

That’s valuable, you know,

finding someone who hears you

and actually listens.

Been thinking

if reason flew by on bird wings,

I might miss it in this place.

If hope unfolded in a fiddlehead,

it would be trampled underfoot.

If tomorrow rose like the sun,

right in the middle of this path,

I’d be too busy holding my head

in concert with this guy to notice.

photo by Marian Kent

Happy Monday! This is #10 of 30 Poems in November to benefit Center for New Americans.