Has to be one of my secret passions
That isn’t secret.
Everyone who knows,
Also, knows that I can keep a secret.
The stories I could tell you!
I’m not Truman Capote.
I’ll never reveal those confidences
Which my Friends’ trust has given me.
If a writer cannot be trusted,
One should not divulge personal secrets.
(I can hear many moans and sighs of relief.)
A secret told is secret.
For me, gossiping is The Town Crier
That tells newsworthy observation.
Has a reliable source of the news.
Some think I am that person.
I listen, with respect, to my neighbors.
I love their stories.
Is an experience that has Passion.
Passion is my muse.
This Art was a word
I heard with never a note of music.
Was it considered “adult”?
Were Grownups around me scared
I would listen and act out the sad plots?
Did they know some were tragic stories?
Opera and Poetry evoke
Horror to ignorant People who shirk
The essence of communicating ardor.
I have sat in opera seats
Like a sponge soaking up true emotions
That make my sensual being whirl.
I cannot convey
How much I love and respect this art form
Which makes me so passionate.
When I sob,
They are tears of sorrow or happiness —