We live in houses made of paper,
bought to write new poems,
And when you are awake at night later,
You read the words written on them.
The paper house has poems of love,
It has captured all the secret moments,
The times that were lovely and times oh so tough,
It has all written on it.
It has eyes and ears, it has time to capture,
It has the power to make you feel the gone moments again,
It has smell and sound and life structure,
It has all written on it.
You read the echos of those false promises,
Those times when only the walls heard your cries,
And you grow and you change not knowing how time passes,
It is all written on it.
It says how it loves to live in the moment,
How every day has a new story to tell,
How do we fail to notice and fall in love,
With every passing moment,
We weep instead for the things we don’t have,
We grieve to try harder to get it,
We mourn and whimper to make a new paper town
When one day all is going to crumble down.
It rains one day soaking the paper
The ink of words doesn’t keep the shape,
The ink and water eat it away
And all that remains is the white paper.
The sun dries it up and the wind sets it sail
It flies to a new journey, for people await,
To write their unique story on the paper
And make another paper house.
-MK
