One More Time


My walls went up a hundred years ago,
Plaster and lath, generations thick,
Family built and carefully maintained.

You saw them when we first met and
Agreed these walls could last a lifetime,
And you were okay with that, because

You knew walls. You ran your hands
Over the surface and felt for weaknesses,
Showed me the spots that had some give,

While promising not to tear them down.
You knew walls. Said they had character,
So I invited you in and let you stay.

But now you’re tired of plaster and lath,
Tired of this being my house, not ours.
You’ve brought wallboard, so smooth

And hard. It doesn’t give an inch.
All these years, you left the old,
Never promising you wouldn’t build new.


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