The wood of the wall

The wood of the wall shared
a day, in his life of witness
Some signal throw away
It was a new colour
Suprised me again,

¿ Can a dead wood live again ?
If was not the real world
That question in my brain,
But it still was that wood
In the wall breathing wall,

Late in that day, recalled
My brain an old tale
That said shortly
The wood is to the wall
Like the dress to your girl,

There was not doubt
Responded my girl,
Some people lay in dress
And there is people
That does not say.