Poem by a married women

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.......

nice one..