A Little Seasoning (2 of 5)

She said there were so many "hers", 
She wasn't quite sure who she was, 
Then asked him if the wind blew hard 
On who he loved, wheree'r he was, 
And he said, "Yes, my friend. The wind 
Finds all of us, though we might hide, 
And blows the leaves off where we've sinned, 
And leaves bare what we'd keep inside."

There was a silence then of keys; 
She knew the rest, so didn't ask. 
A season lost of friendship sought 
And summer sun in which to bask. 
Yes, now, a colder truth blew in 
The empty castles of pretend -- 
A winter now, with her own thoughts, 
And no more plays with

Married men

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Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

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