The walls,
built of plaster and lathe,
hold secrets within their cracks.

130 years ago,
the first family gathered wide-eyed,
wrapped in shawls and wool coats.

Mother cradled baby;
father rotated key.

I wish I could lean against the wall,
ear to plaster,
and hear their heartbeats–first steps
into the candle-lit warmth of 34 Congress Street.