If These Walls Could Talk.

I place little stock in walls which will one day talk,

My faith lies not in the hope of the future but in the patterns of the past.

Stories that are told of a distant time may put a smile on my face and bring a tear to my eye,

But stories of tomorrow as happy as they may be are little but promises, that we hope to one day see.

To touch it, to feel it, to taste it; that’s real. To wish it and dream it is little but ideals.

I plan not to live in the past but to embrace today, and hope for tomorrow, although happen not, it may.