Hidden in her closet

She pens upon the pages of her personal little book
The writing is for her eyes only so noone else must dare to look
Her five year diary.. She fills a page each day
And only she is allowed to interpret what this account does say

Tho usually each and every page will say the same.. She is a spinster so her life should be pretty tame
Yet has she hidden in the closet of her secrecy ?
Sauciness and sordid secret’s of mystery

Will she burn this little book before she departs? If not then surely her silence will be broken from within her heart of hearts..
That daylight rendition of her tales of the night.. I have no doubt in my mind of a reader’s delight..

So as she sits in solitude rocking in her wooden chair with a twinkle in her eye and that long lost glare.. there lurks her stories from Oh so long ago tucked up in clandestine that no one needs to know..