I have never cared about those white walls asking me to stop,
when those blue roads are willing to take me home.
Those walls looked bewildered and slumped.
They spoke of memories and fresh oranges we ate.
They wept for hours for those stories we made,
when life came to visit and joy danced over the years.
I wish I could cry some tears of agony and detachment,
but those walls didn’t know about the emptiness residing inside.
Only if I would have tears left to cry.
Only if I would have words left to fathom.
But we all become hollow one day with a wise, old, blue heart.
Or with a sick, exhausted, cold soul.
It’s hard to not look at those old pages of life,
but I have learnt to take the long way home.
Maybe a little tedious,
but I would get to kiss the sweet destiny one day.
Maybe a little tiring,
but I would get to hug that pink tree on my way.
before going away,
I smiled at the white walls with closed eyes and moved ahead,
with just one thought in mind
“do not look back or you’ll fall down the stairs”.