The bones know a secret.
They hold a sacred trust.
They heard it from the birds.
Who carried it from the trees.
Who heard a whisper
From a passing wind
That had come from across the sea.
But the bones won’t talk about it,
They’ll take the secret to the grave.
Where they will lie in silence
Until the end of days.
© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.