The trees hid the house from curious passers-by, <br />For branches had grown thick o’er the years, <br />Contentment that permeated inside the walls, high, <br />Was now shattered by dissolution and tears. <br /> <br />Many were the days that the incumbent would cry, <br />No happiness now, just her fears. <br />Having been so elated, always in the public eye, <br />She now had to face all the jeers. <br /> <br />A recluse she’d become, all were trying to pry, <br />Callous rumours had come to her ears, <br />This famous star, feted, was now wary and shy, <br />For the newspapers had started such smears. <br /> <br />Something in her past, that she couldn’t deny, <br />Was located by some cruel scrutineers, <br />But if you’re in the limelight, one thing you can’t buy, <br />Is your privacy, that’s for cold profiteers.<br /><br />Ernestine Northover<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-incumbent/
