poem by: Jude Kyrie
Written on Feb 01, 2015

The secrets I do not tell even to myself. 
Are the same things the Blossoms know 
when they proliferate the cherry tree
even as they prepare to fall like confetti. 
They are the babbling secrets of the brook 
as its waters bounce stunned
into the rocks of the rapids. 

Hush! whispers the librarian 
As the rows and volumes of books
Keep their dusty secrets in silence
. In the garden The fluted speakers
Of the morning glory Sing only silence

Falling asleep in the nightime quiet.
Just the taunting voices 
Of the nocturnal whippoorwill 
Never tell!
Never tell! 
Never tell - - 



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Christopher Russon commented on Nov 21, 2017 at 6:31pm
Lovely words to your poem.


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