Veronica

When I was a young man I sat at the feet of Seneca and heard him declaim the endurance of suffering.
I never learnt my lessons. Dry words from a dry old man. Further in life I met my true teacher in a distant Roman colony. She would teach me how to endure pain and how to love it.

Veronica was the only one who loved me. She was the the only one who came and mopped my brow
when I met my torture so, so often on that dusty arena.

Her lashes were the sweetest .When I felt her slicing my back I imagined her lovely eyes looking down on me,as she always did when the others took their turn.Gratiana's were no less strenuous,and Clodia's swift and rhythmical but she transformed her whipping to a thing of beauty.

Seneca,why did you not teach me to endure Love!