by a confidant breeze
to ears of grass
that reached as high
as the sky
is tall

with burden bowed
their heads nod down
nod down
to the ground
they bend so low

oh how they wish
they’d paid no heed
ignored the vex
of that soft zephyrous moan

but too late now
their own they are
the secrets
of the sough

© Frank Prem, 2016

Poem #35: way poem #10: a court farewells its king


6 thoughts on “secrets

  1. Pingback: Easy Being Green: Start Up | What's (in) the picture?

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