A Woman's Poem

He didn't like the casserole,

   and he didn't like my cake.

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,

   like his Mother used to do.

                          -Unknown