Lord She is one of Your Children

She would not lend me
The wooden beads;
She said I had not bought them;
That she had never once intended
Selling them;
That the reason for my alarm
When I lost them
Was that I knew they were hers;
That she was sick of my stories
And my lying
And that I had broken the catch.

Then she went into her room
And wept
In the darkness.