By: Victoria DiMartino
sitting on silhouettes is when
whispers are most likely
to be heard.
faint voices are to be delicate
for the shadows to hear
the innocence of silence is
too much for children
listening to sound is like
hearing the secrets in
your cars
made from telling stories
to the mind
relish ungoldly hours that
free you from half of your
soul
as time went by and
started to fade
washed away and only
heard in wisps
grass has words of thorns that
prick at a season
always like sparks that don’t
want to fade
beneath the branches
green vines whisper secrets
in your ears
too quiet for the lights to
hear in the shade