He was feeling a bit under the weather, he said,
And thought that a cup of hot tea would be nice,
Perhaps laced with lemon and a dollop of honey,
And could I make tapioca (from scratch & with spice?)
Could I hand him the remote? he weakly implored,
He ached far too much to get up;
And while I was at it, could I make chicken soup
And bring it to him on a tray, in a cup?
As I reached for the door, he asked for the Kleenex,
And did I know where the cough drops might be?
If it wasn’t too much, could I make him some custard?
That is, whenever I was free?
I made him some soup, carried trays in and out,
Until I was absolutely ready to drop
By evening, he was up and rarin’ to go,
While I simply wanted to flop….
So I reheated soup and buttered some crackers,
And made myself a cup of hot tea,
For, isn’t it true, that when wives and mothers get sick….
There’s no one to wait on…..but me.
Sandra Lee Smith
Written September 18, 2009/updated June 11, 2018