whispers that waken

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    whispers that waken

     ..
    whispers that waken to love discreet
    the need for silence a wretch to my soul
    would that openness prevail
    and we be openly sweet..but in the sh
    adows is where we meet
    kiss is but a balm for the silence here...
    kept out of love or is it fear...i only know i want you near
    the
    the dawn is a silent enemy...a pain to my soul of whuch i long to be freed.

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    cherylchaney56’s Poems (12)

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