A Wife’s Poem.

He didn’t like the curry

And he didn’t like my cake.

He said my biscuits were too hard…

Not like his mother used to make.

I didn’t prepare 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.

Isn’t there anything I could do

To match his mother’s shoe ?

Then I smiled as I saw light

One thing I could definitely do

I turned around

And slapped him tight….

Like his mother used to do.