Gay Hired Hand

This one I am reposting because I had to make a few adjustments to it. Since I did this poem the first time, I learned some things about poetry. I wanted to apply those things to this one.

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An old farmer that died had left all of his lands,
to the wife that loved him but had delicate hands.
She had to hire a man to help her along the way,
it didn’t matter to her when he said he was gay.
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He was a hard worker, always working long hours.
He best liked the gardening, especially the flowers.
After weeks of hard work, she decided he needed
some time to himself and he happily conceded
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He did though have to be back by midnight for sure.
He had to begin his work day in the morning at four.
Midnight came and went and just as she feared,
though she was waiting for him, he never appeared
--
He finally showed up, but it was at two twenty-nine
and she was waiting for him with a glass of red wine.
She quietly beckoned for him to come into the door.
Nervously he shuffled his feet across the large floor.
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She said I know it's late but I need something from you.
I want you to take off my blouse and my high heels too.
He did as he was told although his hands were shaking.
He knew when he did it, it was a chance he was taking.
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She said, and take off my skirt and unsnap my brassiere.
When you have them all off, put them on the table here.
You must know that I’m happy for the day you were hired,
but if you ever put my clothes on again, you will be fired.

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