When late frosts nip the first fresh buds of Spring
Then am I betrayed
When loved ones fail to see my toil
And tramp their mud across the floor
Then am I betrayed
When children don’t come home to play
Choose friends’ homes not our own
And friend and kin alike dismiss
My need for company
Then am I betrayed
But most of all: the biggest hurt
Is when I finally see
That hope is dead and plans in vain
The future ne’er will be
Because the Love of all my life
Prefers another to me.

About Rosalie Squires

'Who am I?' is a question whose answer keeps evolving, that can be answered in many, many ways; that has no known answer at all. But there are some clues to be found: stocksharpsquires.wordpress.
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