Cracks of Memory

The cracks speak slumbering voices upon the walls.
Silence flowers among the weary plaster, light as frost.
Memory breathes between dust and light.
Every fissure is a window onto slipping time.
The house harmonizes with silence’s breath and sprouts.
A memory crosses the room, ethereal and familiar.
And when we look, silence brings roots and petals.
Memory echoes among footsteps and furniture.
We remain, until the house remembers once more.