Flowers

Oh my how he did dote on her
When she was young with succulent breasts
He was a sick pup following her everywhere
Just to watch the sway of her hips
Or a glimpse of flawless thigh
He would oft surprise her with flowers or scattered rose petals
He would race to open doors
He would walk on the outside of the city streets in case mud splattered
When her mind drifted to other things
He would spoil her with fine chocolates and cream puffs
He doted on her

He had to wed her
And by wedding her he ruined her
For in due course she bore him several children
And her breasts
Well, they just weren’t the same
Things sagged in odd ways
And was that a double chin?
And though he tried to still bring flowers
His eye seemed to wander to more blushing flowers
To firmer buttocks and happier bosoms
And then it was he who was distracted
He frowned while she ate cream puffs and nursed babies
And in due time he resented her
And looked for another to dote on