His Mistress
He slips quietly from my warm bed
To meet her crisp lips
His eyes wide with anticipation
Every sense heightened when he’s with her
“It’s only on Saturdays,” he tells me
“I give you the rest of my week,” he tells me, on Wednesday afternoon
He brings her gifts, clothes, new and shiny gems
He walks to meet her, sometimes for miles
And when he returns, he’s tired, too tired for me
And cold, he must rush to the shower, to cleanse himself
But I can still smell her
I keep thinking, “so soon this will be over,”
But I know full well – hunting season will resume next year.
Draft November 2010
Oh my, what a surprise!!! Cleverly crafted. No need for a draft! Even the title didn't give it away!! WOW!!
ReplyDeleteAngie, this is great and I can really relate to it. My grandfather was a guide for many years and starting the 1st of November he would be "in the woods" for the whole month! I always admired my grandmother during that time because, as much as she hated staying alone she found ways to do things she might not otherwise have done. She invited her girlfriends in for overnights, worked on special projects, shopped, had her grandkids over, etc. It was probably what has helped me survive my grass widow status for the length of time that I have been married.
ReplyDeleteMaybe I could do a World of Warcraft widow version :)
ReplyDelete