That fateful Sunday morning
She sat in church weeping
She was scared down to bones
In this world she was all alone
No one wanted to sit beside her
They all sat very much afar
Except him- The new boy in church
She had no hope- Give him till lunch
They would tell him the lies
Introduce him to the rumour that flew
She had never denied it
Because she was appalled at where the rumour was lit
Church where there ought to be redeeming love
Hearts of the believers- white as a dove
But instead they condemned her
They did not ask the truth – Never
He did not stop sitting beside her
Through the five months she had left
She finally wrote “I did not do it you deserve to know before I die”
And she put it in his Bible in the book of Malachi
“There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about”
Dear Oscar Wilde 💖💖
