The  wall
 next to the demolished house
 holds the shape in muddy  colors
 of kitchen, and bathroom,
 a staircase
 the fireplace of the livingroom,
 a rootless trailing ivy still clinging
 from the shadow
 of the third floor  bedroom  balcony

 Can you hear
 the heavy steps
 of the last residents
 on the phantom staircase?
 Can you see
 the pain of a young girl
 leaning on the mantelpiece,
 sense her crying long into the night?

 Layers upon layers  of anguish
 inscribed
 on the desolate connecting wall.
 Joy and laughter being volatile,
 have long flown away.