He saw with sore eyes, a belle by a bell
With a smile he couldn’t resist.
He wondered should they wander and they rested a while
Ensuring they missed the mist.
Good genes in good jeans, he told himself
As he ushered her into his home.
The maid made food and they ate at eight
And finally they were alone.
He wanted her more as they gazed at the moor
Then he saw he was terribly wrong.
Who’d have guessed that his guest , that he met out side
Of the Nave was a knave all along…
Copyright © Hayley Garland | Year Posted 2015
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