The Other Woman Poem by Denys E. W. Jones

My husband’s gone and left me,
I sit alone and pine.
He’s run off with his secret’ry,
A doll of twenty-nine.

My spouse he doesn’t love me,
I’d known that for some time.
He said it’s ‘cos I’m forty-six,
While she is twenty-nine.

Her hair is blonde, her legs are long,
Her eyes like bright stars shine.
And what’s more, she’s not forty-six,
She’s only twenty-nine.

Her limbs are lithe, her breasts outsized,
Much comelier than mine –
Well, what d’you ‘xpect? I’m forty-six,
And she’s just twenty-nine.

My soulmate swore he’d love me
Until the end of time,
Until the bells of Judgement Day
As one began to chime.

But look, he’s left me lonely,
Because I’m past my prime,
Because I’ve just turned forty-six,
Which feels like ninety-nine!

We met when he was forty-six,
And I was twenty-nine.
So how old does that make him now?
You work it out, I’m tired.

But nonetheless, I hope you too,
Like me, will all opine
He’s far too old for a bit of skirt
Who’s aged but twenty-nine.

My hubby’s got a new love,
But I’ll no longer whine.
I’ll battle to rebuild my life,
Perhaps there is still time.

For yesterday, while at the gym,
I met this handsome guy.
I sized him up from head to foot,
And gave him the glad eye.

Then told him I was forty-six,
He smiled: “I’m twenty-nine…”

5/9/13