Echo’s of silence,

pardon a reply.

A life unmasked,

from the past.

How the quiet,

plays in secrecy,

and reflection of a hush.

Seeking a reprieve,

from the rush,

of distrust,

and the on slot of dawn,

to blame the stillness on.

Secrecy holds within its grasp,

a revelation of reproach.

any reprieve or rescue,

is remote.

In the stillness,

only echo’s of silence,

quieted by hope.

Linda Booth

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