Poetry

She thought: He truly cares for me, saw eyes
full of worry,
while the affairs of state weighed him down;
like a lorry
his frame was broad; he could take all the strain,
she was sorry
for him, helped him wherever she could,
only acted like a first lady should.

Far too selfless she loved him, in his shade
she spent her life,
walked the streets to win him some voters,
in times of strive
she supported, caressed, was with him,
she was alive
in his presence, was proud of his career,
she wanted always to him to be near

but a dark day came that every headline
told about him
and his lovely, lively, foreign mistress;
her life was dim
while he rode the wave of self-centred fame;
over the brim
her tears, her sorrow, suffering did flow;
but he was not the great man she did know.