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 the $h1t out of him....
Like his mother used to do.
A poem by RE3
Moderators: E_, LC addict, FasterThanYou, crwky
Re: A poem by RE3
C'mon, Jefferina! Give katie the credit she's due! 
"The language of friendship is not words but meaning." (Henry David Thoreau)