The Wall.

I was involved in a fatal car crash but my soul took refuge
in a nearby stonewall, not any old wall, but one built by
the time Jesus was a toddler and roman soldiers walked
around in leather skirts. I’m now a wall and have absorbed
every stones’ memory, we are one. It’s ok to be wall, in
the tourist season, people come from afar to take pictures
of me, the Chinese Charge de Affairs was here, said our
wall building style is the same as in his great country, we
smiled, he’s a bit of a flatterer and is looking for trade.

My days of guarding settlements and roman forts are long
since over there is a disused field behind me, it hasn’t been
ploughed for years, they are going to turn it into a housing
estate, it’s said; can’t say I like it children with spray cans
painting me into a kaleidoscope of garish colours; there is
talk of putting me indoors, that’s ok when it rains, but it
will be a bit lonely I’m, after all, part of nature, guess I will
have to take my chances with the kids, see them grow up
fall in love, kiss and cuddle on the lee of my solid flank.