If l get home late,

She never complains.

Sometimes I see,

She's been crying again.


She never wait's by the door,

With her rolling pin.

Mainly because she can't remember,

Which drawer she put it in.


She's getting thin,

While I'm getting fat.

Think somewhere down the line,

I wrote a poem about that.


She's so soft and sweet and kind,

I was pleased the day she said she'd be mine.

As for the reason she sits down and cries,

She does it every time a butterfly dies.


Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 30 times
Written on 2022-08-01 at 23:56

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Wow, what a way to end the poem. Nice

AFRODITE STATHI The PoetBay support member heart!
Such a wonderful person your wife.Loved the final line and all of the poem of course.You made me wanna learn more about her.It is so rare to find sensitive souls nowadays.Great work Alan.Bravo!!

D G Moody The PoetBay support member heart!
A tender poem Alan, that co conveys so much in a subtle way.