Him

Where have all the years gone to
Hoovers that clean alone.
I'm no domestic goddess you see
when he's here instead.

I can't turn the mattress
or make a fuss
with my arm in plaster.

It's not my fault
I can't cook
let alone the washing up.

He cuts and chops
and fry's a lot
and poaches to
but grills the stew.

He forgot I needed food one day
but; hang on...I did have some toast
This man who dislikes new clothes
I love very much.