| A women's poem... | ||
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A women’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 mothers 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!!!!! ********
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