The Secret

The Secret “Don’t tell don’t tell.” she begged of me, with pleading in her eyes And though I knew I really should. I listened to her cries. We were only twelve-years-old; our lives were much the same And I swore to keep her secret, like some exciting game. In the weeks that followed, this knowledge gave me fear Still, her trust in me was total and I held that very dear My mother sensed my worry and asked if all was well But the secret that I carried was never mine to tell So mum took me in her arms, she didn’t shout or scold She said that I was burdened and the secret must be told Then, feeling like a traitor... Gareth James' contest--leave me hanging. 19th April 2010