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It is your lover or possibly your mother,
you are four or forty four; it’s a life time away, it’s yesterday

What’s always the same is that you are to blame;
You should not have gone into the woods alone;
picked flowers from someone else’s garden or shared secrets;
Now you are paying the price.

It is sudden, though, they must have known
You are unprepared, whilst they are not.
They grow tall and you are getting smaller
as you stand there in the doorway shivering.

They do not explain and you dare not ask
the question that forms curling around inside you;

there is no cover for your bewildered skin
when they are leaving.

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