Staying Silent

A small, still pond Stares longingly at the babbling brook Wishing to be part of their conversation. Hearing the stories, like ripples, pass by But never responding, Though there are things to tell. She wants to try To be involved in the flow And be free to frolic. Yet if she joins the rushing water There will be rocks. She’s terrified Of saying the wrong thing And then being forced back out To be a lonely puddle Lying on the bank. So she will stay And sit on the side lines Where it is safe. Who knew that safety Can hurt so bad?