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Poem
Charlotte Wentworth married far too young,
to a man quite rich with old money.
It had seemed such a dream on the big day,
a year later it did not seem so funny.
He was a bore, and he cared very little
for his family, his friends, and such,
he cared for his cash, and his alcohol,
of both he could not get enough.

Left all alone in their Hamptons home,
Charlotte developed a wandering eye,
before too long she’d had her first fling
and moved through a procession of guys.
Until one of her lovers, a soldier named Rob,
started a stirring that went beyond lust,
unlike the others, she invited him back,
of his love she could not get enough.

They were so in tune, and not just in bed,
that she soon knew she was falling hard.
It didn’t help that he felt the same,
she was his muse, his beauty, his star.
They kept stealing moments, more and more,
craving each other’s soft touch,
no matter how often they snuck away
each knew it was never enough.

One day her husband, before he left for work,
said,”I know what you have been doing.
I saw the pictures taken by my private eye,
in the courts I’ll make sure that you’re ruined!”
But later that night, when drunk as always,
he smashed his Benz into a truck.
She played the sad widow, as was expected,
her ‘bereavement’ fooled more than enough.

At the will reading another blow came,
in the prenup he’d hidden a line
that said she got nothing if she remarried
before the passing of five-year’s time.
She said to Rob,”I’ve no degree, no skills,
and your soldier’s pay isn’t that much…
I know it hurts to ask you to wait,
already we have put up with enough.”

He smiled and said,”I can wait patiently,
a marriage license is not what makes you mine.
For a woman to stay married to that cruel drunk...
you deserve every last penny and dime.”
She moved into his house that very night,
in his arms she breathed in his deep musk,
for five happy years they went on this way,
thinking they finally possessed enough...

CONCLUDES IN PART II.
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