Never stop listening to the tales, that are recorded in the walls.
Stories trapped in brick, that ache to be told.
Slithers of epics that breathe from out of gates and guildhalls.
All past kisses and their hopes gathered in.
Conserve every detail, as though sweeping off dust from a jewel.
Buildings can be demolished like love pacts.
Scrubbed away, one day strong like the ground beneath, then-
scratched from the view, without a slab to see.
Look up at edifices till the sky bleeds into every aspect, bring to light-
the possibilities that beat from within.
Understand that even hollow spaces are not empty, just uncharted prospects.
Look down and you will not see the same old street,
instead a platform where markets bustled and brimmed with traders and town subjects.
Look closer and there are masterclasses,
Where lions fight unicorns and kings from centuries sit above, watching.
Treat the heart of the city as though it was indeed your own,crystallised
Appreciate its jagged curves and doors.
Delight in its finery, the nuts and bolts which make it peculiar and prized.
There is poetry in the walls and you must listen harder to hear it,
stare closer to see it, become aware that-
The buildings that surround you need a champion to stop and recgonise.

By Keely Mills

June 19th 2012