The Trophy and the Cherub

She always was his trophy The Perfect Man's match With manners to perfection Haute couture and a hat. All was on schedule Each day of the week She knew when to smile She knew when to speak. She knew when to lie down And make a mind's list As he motioned three times To fill his passion's wish. Until one day one younger Entered his mind And he abandoned his trophy All alone, left behind "I don't want to go home" Was all that she said And she wrote down her dreams To a cherub instead. The cherub nourished her dreams And inspired her to care Smiled upon her with rosy cheeks And curly hair In his eyes she found hope That she never had known Nevermore would she say "I don't want to go home".