Intimate Dialogue by Ken HarnischThat such tender lips would want mine tonight
Is a treasure to me
Of which I will not speak aloud
Nor leave any written memory
Save this meager poem
Sometimes the gold of silence
Is misunderstood, its value
Unappreciated by the noisy and profane
I love you in the shadows
And with whispers
That others call a fog
But we know it as our secret place
Where intimacy
Writes all the dialogue we need.
04/05/2001 Author's Note: Cracking open the safe door and blowing past the cobwebs once again...
Posted on 04/18/2012 Copyright © 2025 Ken Harnisch
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