His Concubine

There she sits, my lover's wife
And I his concubine
I know her well, I know her life
She knows nothing of mine

I make love to her beloved
He and I share the deepest time
Though her innocence does covet
She sees not her husband's crime

Worshiping each coin he spends
The tenderness she receives
The roses and chocolates that he sends
How expertly he deceives

They clasp hands across the table
In this landmark street cafe
Her eyes so ignorantly stable
Whilst her husband's eyes do stray

He winks at me each opportunity
Gives suggestive little grins
His wife sips at her cup politely
A saint to her husband's sins

Why I bother with a married man
When others beg for my kiss
Not even I quite understand
The reasons to be a mistress