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.
Then 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?!?!
A Woman's Poem
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BikerGran
- Gran Turismo
- Posts: 3924
- Joined: Sun Dec 17, 2006 5:12 pm
- Location: Any further south and I'd fall off!
A Woman's Poem
The tragedy of old age is not that one is old, but that one is young.
