The Golden Goose

There was a man who found a golden goose
Whose down was no, not yellow, but gold, so
Gold it shone, and she was the man's and his
Alone, or so he thought. But she was loose,
A golden goose, so alone, so without peer,
So loved by the man, but loose. She loved
The hands that eased through her dress. Her
Wings she spread for men holding the staff;
Her man was a cobbler, but he loved her. Once,
The man saw: she, in high spirits, laughing,
Merry in the company of the mayor, his hands
Beneath. The hammer quivered, his eyes weak
Before the flood that swept across cheeks
On fire. On the floor he slumped, emancipation?
Never, for he loved her. Never, will he find
Another. The man and his loose golden goose.