The Mistress' love
In the quiet hours before dawn’s soft grace, Where shadows dance and night begins to fade, A mistress stands, her gaze a tender trace, Upon the form that serves, unweary, unswayed. Her slave, so loyal, bound by unseen chains, Not of iron, but of devotion deep, Through trials, pain, and countless unseen pains, In silence bears the burdens he must keep. His hands, though rough, are gentle in their care, Crafting her world with strength and silent will, Each task a testament, each...