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She sat on the doorstep
Lost and alone.

Her treasured ideals
She had outgrown.

Shattered the dreams
And beliefs of her youth,
For someone had told her
What passed for the truth.

Could it be true?
It made her feel bad.

Girls prettier than Mommy?
Men smarter than Dad?
Her guilt was so heavy;
Her heart felt so grieved
From critical words
She’d almost believed.

Mommy was calling
“It’s suppertime now.”
And she had to face them,
Though she didn’t know how.

Her lip trembled a little
As she opened the door;
It’s hard to face up
To the world when you’re four.

Then the words lost their sting,
And the world held no harm
In Daddy’s warm smile
And Mommy’s warm arms.

©2010 Carol Morfitt

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