Trees standing tall and silent,
secrets heard,
From below, whispered in private,
No backlash, not a word.
A place she feels safe,
to open up,
To break,
On a comfortable tree stump.
Whispered secrets,
released in the wind,
solace she seeks,
within.
Only God’s power,
Can resolve.
And devour.
It’s not hers to solve.
Copyright ©️ by: Jenny Frye. June 19, 2024. All rights reserved.