I have a bit of a secret passion for historical fiction and am working on something longer at the moment, an idea for a story that’s made up entirely of poems. Including ‘Below Stairs’ written earlier,
Come in, come in and close the door over,
Do not be afraid now, just step a bit closer,
I know I can help if you would open your soul,
If you only explain, if you would tell me it all.
So come a little nearer and sit by the fire,
Raise up your head now, a little bit higher,
I see in your eyes and I can see how you feel,
I know there is more that you need to reveal.
I must ask the question and I need you to speak,
I care not for falsehood, only the truth do I seek.
Did you lie with him willingly as an act of free will,
Or did he force a surrender and bid you be still?
You ask for forgiveness but don’t tell me why,
A voice that is whispered and then you do cry.
Your hands they do knit then unfurl in your lap,
Your starched linen uniform, your lily white cap.
I care not for tears child, for I see no remorse,
There is no redemption, there is no recourse,
I know that I speak for the good and the true,
Why would the Master come seeking out you?
Now you must leave, this place where you grew,
Knowing your sin is a stain that runs through,
A hoar is a hoar and your shame is your own,
And pray for your own sake his seed is not sown.