Paperwall

Wallpaper covered by paint.

Beneath crepuscular thick paint
lay patterns.
They’re stuck to a wall.
Everyone can see them,
like medals on a war hero.
The pride of the house
built by callused hands.
Covered now.
The pride faded
by each stroke of new ambition.

Reviews

[John Jackson (El Juero)]

I appreciate this piece from a professional, as well as a poetic point of view. Engaging storyline, which, as cycles go, may very well be restored to it's crepuscular (love that word!) form.