White Walls Poem by Skylark Woodrow

My walls are covered with trees,
Their trunks seeded and grown from the wood paneled floor.
Painted leaves frozen in place,
Soaking up the warm sunlight peering in through the windows.
Birds and butterflies immovable but never-the-less alive;
Their gaudy colors drawing the eyes.
And words, poems, quotes hidden within the paintings;
Visible only if you seek them out.

When I leave what will happen to this place?
Will its sweet memory be tainted by its new occupant;
Burned beyond all recognition,
And become an abhorrence to my sight?

I cannot let that happen.
I can not allow my sanctuary to fall into merciless hands;
To be destroyed.
Therefore,
When I leave,
I leave behind me white walls.

(2014.11.17)