The Other Woman.

The Mother, the Mistress

The Mistress, the Mother

At a memorial service

For those lost to time

Two women mourn

The Man



There is grave ceremony

An absence of men

In ironed uniforms

Except in the photo

Each is clutching tightly

In gloved black hands

As if there is no other

Ever



It begins to drizzle

She opens the only umbrella

Closer they huddle

Over his last rest

Their tears mingle

Into rain



And in that instant

It’s of no importance


                              That he never brought her home