Cindy

Margaret V.Doran

She rocked her baby gently
    as she sat upon my floor.
        Tears were slipping down her cheeks,
            her back was to the door.

she told me things from childhood,
    things I did not know
        about her life and family
            things that happened long ago

We were friends in those past years
    and I thought I knew her well
        I really was not ready to hear
            the stories she had to tell

Her father started raping her
    when she was seven years old;
        about hiding the horror from everyone
            as her heart grew bitter and cold

I listened and could hardly believe
    the things that she’d lived through.
        We had been the best of friends
            and I never had a clue

She said she’d lived with so much pain
    she’d failed as a wife;
        she was trying to save her marriage
            and regain both love and life

So now she’d told her story
    and I knew that it was true
        I wanted to embrace my long-lost friend
            and give her strength anew

But I had my own deception lurking
    deep within my soul:
        her husband was dating someone else
            and playing the singles’ role

How could I be the instrument
    to cause her yet more grief
        so I put her head on my shoulder
            and gave her a moment’s relief

But in the end she must have known
    that I knew of her coming pain
        for though I loved my childhood friend,
            I never saw her again.

Copyright © 1997 Margaret V. Doran. All rights reserved.

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Updated July 1, 1999
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