I have been thinking about secrets lately. The good and the bad of them. And when does a secret change from some lovely, hidden gem into poison? For it seems they become radioactive... Now it brings to mind a foreign bit trapped deep under the skin, that causes infection. The area grows sore to the touch, full of puss. Then finally it bursts, and only after it has been thoroughly cleaned out and open to the air and sunlight, does healing begin.
But of course, there are lovely secrets too...precious little things that make us feel special or confident or loved. And then too, there is the fall-out after a secret has been told....
Well, here is a first little poem about secrets.
Who do you tell your secrets to?
Do you drop a hint, leave a clue?
Is your silence golden?
Or are you beholdin’
to someone you’ve shared with
someone you’ve cared with
someone who’s helped to ease you mind
someone who's understanding and kind,
for what we all seem to want
is a true and trusted confidante
but I thought the keeper of your secret key
was a job you would entrust to me