Frozen Stories

Every building has a memory it keeps

It seems like they exchange stories with the stars

Each night the city sleeps

I walk in a quiet alley, and the houses look down on me. 

We're the same, it's just that 

I have borrowed bones, and they have not.

Within us, we all carry some tales from the past 

And leave some others to rot. 

I run my fingers on the wall as I walk ahead.

I can feel them whispering

As they sing about dead times and lost glories. 

With our memories locked inside, I pull my hand away. 

Though we have never met before, 

We now share a past, like a bygone retreat. 

In the end, that's all that architecture remains: 

A frozen story

Waiting for a storyteller to meet.