from the unapproved class of secrets…

the cold came in the autumn
and stayed for months and years
while we, the children, stacked the hay
 ran up the ladder
 and away
  and slept amid our fears
  lay down within our fears

the storm came in the winter
and hid us from regard
while we, the innocent, stayed back
 and feigned surrender
 to attack
  within the icy yard
  the white and snowy yard

there's only three of us who know
the things we witnessed, secretly
where no one thought that eyes observed
 with neither truth
 nor justice served
  we yet that day did see
  we yet in fear did see

the pictures bent and faded
from albums now unsleeved
with images of loud and red
 the seen that turns
 into the said
  but is not then believed
  are told but not believed

Published by

Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

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