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SECRETS IN THE WELL Listen to the night it's whisper. A real story from a quiet street was it the night I was to meet, your memory or did it pass by hearts shatter, when you don't try to close your eyes and kiss her. Shimmering leaves were on call. My hands stayed warm holding yours we walked passed the tracks and stores, But so young our stories short self esteem, none of the sort, I stumbled once, did I fall? I remember the church yard You taught me then not to tell I hid secrets in the well, laughter like streams and big smiles were exchanged over the miles, And the words flowed with no guard. I remember blue that night Did I drag my foot to show the time was racing, I know I knelt once, my shoelace loose and tried to make an excuse, the street we walked had no light. Sewing from river to stream I reached once for a low cloud I should not have sung so loud, Soon the whispers came to you and angels made them come true, I returned once in a dream. |
This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-11-30 10:29:59
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.68750
This is a good poem about a past love. Sewing from river to stream is very original. And so what did you do
in the church yard? inquiring minds (at least mine) want to know. This is such a well written piece of your youth. Well done. I liked your title and I wonder about that well!