Do you have a secret?
I do. Don’t share it frequent.
Your secret? Nothing you want to share?
Good. Let’s not cause another scare.
It’s a secret just the same.
That shouldn’t cause shame.
Shared it once.
But got a shocked reply.
No. Not you.
Couldn’t be. Tell me it’s not true!
Shared it twice,
to a jovial outcry.
Come now.
Let me tell you a tale of a dancing sow.
Think I’ll keep my secret close to the vest.
Shh, got a secret. That’s best.
I have a secret.
Do you?
Poetry & More 
I like how this poem weaves together the weight of secrecy with the soft ache of how others receive it.
That moment between “No. Not you. Couldn’t be.” and the sudden shift into a joke to deflect feels very human—like watching someone retreat behind a curtain when the light gets too bright.
Keeping it close to the vest becomes its own kind of quiet safety. Sometimes a secret isn’t just hidden; it’s kept tenderly, like a small stone worn smooth in the palm.
Thank you for sharing this piece. It holds a gentle power.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you 💕
LikeLike
Secrets like these are best shared in the upstairs bedroom at night and under sheets on the glow of a flashlight on a warm summer eve.
Conditions must be right 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
If they are shared at all.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I sure do- and every once in a while, I let one fly right here on WordPress!
LikeLiked by 1 person
The good (I guess) thing about writing; it’s hard to know when something is truth or fiction.
LikeLiked by 1 person