MASTERPIECE #3371

/// Here’s the Merchant’s Wife sitting at Tea.
She’s well bred (and well fed) as can be.
Fresh fruit, tarts, jam and bread
make a sumptuous spread.
Having twins? No… but does eat for three.

/// As the spouse of a prosperous man,
she indulges to show that she can.
Her pale flesh on display
glows, to wordlessly say,
“I’m no serf with a leathery tan!”

/// In her small china saucer, tea cools.
She wears costly, yet chic gowns and jewels.
To Galina, her wealth
matters more than her health,
she thinks people who diet are fools.

/// Her over-steeped tea tastes like mud
and floods too much caffeine through her blood.
So she tried something new,
and her cat smells it, too.
Her pet’s catnip was nipped in the bud.

/// The cat purrs, gently rubbing his face—
tagging scent on her trim of fine lace.
Seeing this, her eyes spark;
she concurs, “leave your mark.”
Thus, her merchant succumbed to the chase.

/// Galina wore subtle perfume
which did not overpower a room.
She appealed to his sense
of smell, faint, but immense
in potential to seal a man’s “doom.”

/// In the samovar, water was heated
to make tea when the brewing’s completed.
His wife heard it repeated
that her merchant had cheated,
so she scalded his lap ‘til he bleated.

/// She’d made it seem like a mistake
any ham-handed woman might make,
so the unfaithful snake
lies in bed nights awake,
from the burns that continue to ache.