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June 5, 2014



and Nancy told her

when she was nine,

as they played skipping rope

with the washing line,


and she ran indoors

calling Nancy a liar,

but it was no lie,

it did transpire.


Her mother’s face

now white with shock,

beckoned her to sit

by the ticking clock.


That child is

never his, she said;

and she should know,

for she was led


along the same

path of disgrace;

a tormented future

so to face.


But that child, not his,

did still remain

within their loving

family frame.


Unlike the one

without a name

who was never destined

to stake that claim.


And her loyalty switched

with the changing tide,

as she jumped ship

to the other side.


And poor young Nancy

was never forgiven,

for blurting out the truth

that should have stayed hidden.




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