Veneer

She said it was time

To paint the living room

Which would require

The removal of the ancient, flowered wallpaper.

What a strange thing it was

To peel back the brittle, pasted paper

Only to reveal some secret scrawl

From an unknown hand, long-since dead.

We tried to read the words

But they seemed so foreign

Maybe a spell or sygil

Cast within the walls of our old home.

Perhaps the message was meant

To conjure or create something new

Pulled down from heaven above

Or dredged up from the darkness below.

Just as she was about to speak

I told her to say nothing

For fear of the chaos she might unleash

By uttering things better left unsaid.

We never spoke of the message again

Leaving it right where we found it

On that same southern wall

Being sure to cover it up with three extra coats of paint,

Left for the next owner to uncover.