Wednesday, October 29, 2003

Sharing a Wall

I would wake up to the sound of Tim
hitting the wall in the house next door.
When he needed medicine or his mother's help
he wiggled on his mattress
and the headboard jolted the wall.
I never liked the abrupt awakenings
that kept me from sleep at nights
but because the duplex walls were thin,
I didn't only wake to Tim's fits.
Through the single layer of dry wall
I could hear his laughter,
his stories,
his music,
his cries,
his dreams.
Countless nights I had woken up
to the awkward cries through the wall.
Through those nights I grew to love
the lullaby of Tim.

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