Concealed behind that plain façade
silently observing yet unobserved
you creep along obscure corridors
listening at keyholes, capturing confidences
pocketing intrigues and salting them away.
Green mantle cloaked, you traverse the town
sniffing out secrets, ferreting for indiscretions
licking spoons that stir the pot
snatching skeletons from cupboards
to one day share and spill.
Nothing escapes your inimical attention
under your watch, people scarcely sleep
they mind their tongues, mind other people’s
but blank of countenance and with eyeless innocence
for now your secrets stay safe with me.
Image credit: Victoria Strukovskaya @ Unsplash
The image shows a closed wooden gate with the number 28.5 written on it with chalk. The gate is surrounded by thick green creepers.