10th December 2013

Sonnet  3(oops!)7

Does it ever fill first wives with delight

When estranged hubbies take refuge in  youth

Chasing young women?  It's not out of spite -

We all prefer fresh meat, and that's the truth.

When he laughs at her uncynical wit,

She knows it's not routine sex any more,

She trains him like a dog to eat; beg; sit;

Roll over ; play dead - that's what she's in store.

Our union left him lame, poor and despised,

He needed a mistress with love to give

And some domestic comforts that sufficed

To make him feel he had reason to  live.

    He used  to spend all his money on me:

    It makes me mad now it's going to thee.