They are just bricks.
Reds, browns, white.
But they’ve been there for long.
They’ve heard the promises made at night.
Felt lovers lean on them as they
Kissed, stood holding hands.
They’ve had heels stomp on them.
Mud flicked at them,
Spit, rain, eggs.
Had rain clean them.
They’ve felt the early strokes of sun in the mornings.
Endured as people leaned on them for a quickie.
Housed spiders who have woven their webs on them.
Insects have died on them.
Smacked onto the wall and flattened to a red mess.
They are just walls, but they have many secrets.