The Secret Sorrow
The child of love,
with innocent heart.
A lie for a name,
and kept in the dark.
It seemed that they knew,
not willing to tell.
To put in his hand,
that most bitter pill.
The secrets buried,
down six feet under.
When the storms weaken,
too far off thunder.
For most everything,
there is a reason.
For every summer,
a winter season!
Copyright © Meru Groen | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment