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
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