A poem I wrote way back in 1950 something. You are going to get these
off and on.




Like Mama Did



He didn't like my casserole,
he gagged upon my cake.
My biscuits were not soft,
the way his Mama used to make.

I didn't perk the coffee right.
He didn't like my stew.
I couldn't even iron his shirts.
like Mama used to do.

I don't see why we married.
It's a mystery to me.
He was looking for the,
next door girl,
like Mama used to be.

I pondered for a reason.
I was looking for a clue.
Instead I cracked him on the head,
like Mama used to do.