by Focus
© 2000, all rights reserved
She looked at him, dark, wiry, strong
And all was perfect, nothing wrong.
His hips were slim, his shoulders wide
His smile left her weak, and warm inside.
She wept beside him on the bed
Stunned by hearing what he said.
He'd been straying, for the last year!
(She had suspected, with bone-deep fear.)
Across the courtroom, hard wooden bench
She looked at him, and felt no wrench.
Too much hurt, now, too many sighs
Her heart felt cold, now, and old, and wise.