Women

A mother with a gentle hand
To soothe her young son's brow
And that same hand
Adorns a band
To symbolise a vow.

A bride in white that took a man
For better or for worse
And holds him near
Throughout her years
Till he lies within his hearse.

One who possesses a cooling touch
To break a soldier's fever
The nurse that fights
To prolong life
But through death becomes a griever.

And of course the seductress who
Takes a man to bed
And lies with him
In carnal sin
Yet in the morning finds he's fled.

Some will sing our praises
Whilst others call us tarts
But whichever name,
We still remain
The jailers of men's hearts.

© Emily Sanctuary, 2007