A Woman's Poem
He didn't like the casserole
And he didn't like my cake,
He said my biscuits were too hard
Not like his mother used to make.
I didn't perk the coffee right
He didn't like the stew,
I didn't mend his socks
The way his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer
I was looking for a clue.
So I turned around and smacked him one
Like his mother used to do.
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I love a good poem, don't you?!?!
That reminds me of our first argument after we were married PH. He couldn't understand why I was annoyed when he asked why I hadn't cleaned his shoes. His mother used to. I told him I"m your wife not your b****y mother. He didn't ask again.