A Women's poem

He didn't like the curry

And he didn't like my cake

He said my buiscuits 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 a 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 hard...

As his mother used too!!! :)