The Story Poem by Edward Rhodes

Till now, I didn’t even know her name
Or in what line of work she worked, for she
Was not well known, till you made it your aim
To write about the crime and make us see
How much it hurt her, though it’s all the same
To you, you said that we should leave her be
That time would heal her wounds, cover the shame
You said so, writing so professionally
Of course we had to know, or so you claim
How many kids she has now, two or three
I think your paper said. We should all tame
Our prurience and curiosity
Because she wishes to escape such fame
Perhaps you’ll tell us where she lives, for we
Know nothing of her, still we should not blame
You told us to respect her privacy