Three words and two seasons

I buy her for three words.
She is my lackey?
(Lovers are lackeys.)

Summer.
She does my chores.
She feeds me food.
And ego.

She knocks my door.
I reveal my room.
She lies down.She is warm.
Like summer.
We make love.
Peacocks in rain.  


Winter.
She does my chores.
She feeds me milk.
She is cold. Her breath is
strong. She catches a fever.
I do not care. I drink my
milk.

She sleeps for long.
She is dead.
I grieve for her,
When I grieve.




This is life.
Two seasons long.
All else is play,
where three words that
wrong.