One Side of a Phone Conversation


I know some things I just can't tell.
I promised them I wouldn't.
So please don't ask. Don't pressure me.
You know me. I just couldn't!

Although you're not demanding yet,
I 'm sure you'd love to know.
Your silence says, "Oh, tell me, please!"
I'll bet your eyes just glow.

I guess you think if I don't tell,
I'll someday soon explode.
I'm made of stronger stuff than that.
Yes, I can bear this load.

I know the strain I'll suffer through,
but I won't tell these things.
Then I shall have the sense of pride
That being trusted brings.

So many times I've told you things
I'd sworn to keep for life.
Like me, you're not the type to tell
And stir up shame and strife.

I'm positive you'd not disclose
These treasures that I hold.
Don't think that I don't trust you, dear!
I know you're good as gold.

Oh, very well, I'll tell you then.
We'll hold these truths forever.
Those waiting around for us to tell
Will hear about them never!





A Fifteen-Year-Old's Response to Frost


"This 'pome' don't make NO sense! What junk!"
the scowling students muttered.
"Two roads in the woods!" one hissed. "Such bunk!"— 
opinions rudely uttered.

I quelled the urge to hurl my book.
I said, "Can't you surmise
what they might mean? Let's take a look.
What might they symbolize?"

One hand shot up—then two—then three!
My probing did the trick.
Alas! Two kids just had to pee.
The other whined, "I'm sick."

The bell rang. As my prisoners fled,
"Essays next week," I screamed.
"I ain't no good at them," some said.
 My mind diverged, it seemed.