There was a maiden, fair and lean, whose beauty went beyond what’s seen, in that her generosity of spirit. She willingly would share her charms in any (and all!) takers’ arms and yet still moaning with delight, she wanted more.
Lush and lovely were her mountain peaks, many peeked into her valleys too, but soon she found herself with woe and child. "I cannot take the time to nurse, I cannot take the time!" she cursed, and doubled up her daily dose of loving. Eventually, this fertile lass, took to her bed but never read, and sprouted in her fields every seed there planted. She grew and grew but never stopped, she never dressed and never shopped, but lay there laying in a steady stream of callers.
But time is one that won’t be quirked, and though the lady never worked, she too (as must us all) pay price of lust. It was about two years or more, but all the folks who lived next door were still amazed the day that she exploded.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology