Like His Mother Used To Do

I've been getting some pretty cool poetry from my sister lately. Here's one:


Like His Mother Used To

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 crap out of him...
Like his mother used to do