for ten years,
he would
leave her small gifts,
silver trinkets along
the path
where they could hold
hands
and walk,
away from those they
were married to.
he'd carve hearts
into trees
with their names on it,
draw hearts
in the snow,
make hearts out of twigs and
branches.
leaves
to surprise her with when
they walked.
he did everything one could
do for a mistress,
but marry her.
she's still waiting,
i suppose.
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