I posted this piece on my poetry site, but thought the readers here might enjoy it as well. Happy Valentine’s Day.
How much burned toast and runny eggs?
And half-done roasts and tough pancakes?
How much antacid did they take,
Or suffer silent tummy aches?
Those brave young guys with loving hearts,
Whose wives were learning cooking arts.
They never once refused to eat
And always claimed it was a treat.
They gladly paid the price required;
Their patience never did expire.
So on this day of valentines,
They each deserve the sweetest lines:
Thanks to the hubbies who ate food
Digested by nothing but love.
~~
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They cold have always tried cooking themselves!
This was written in memory of all those hubbies from past generations who couldn’t cook or who knew their wives needed the moral support from them as they were learning. Today, we wouldn’t find men like that — or very many women like that either. I had a different experience personally. My dad and my husband were both wonderful cooks and loved cooking. They washed dishes, did laundry, and cleaned house as well. I was blessed, and so was my mom.
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