My Wife Is Home
–an original poem by Jeff Weddle
The doors are slamming and the cries are shattering,
I have things to say but they’re not very flattering.
I want to put back the jellies, but I can’t find the lids,
The house is a mess due to my brain dead kids.
Someone’s always talking, I don’t know what they say,
Someone’s always hanging on me and getting in my way.
The stench from my son says there’s a job to do,
But I can never get it all, it sticks like glue.
My wife is at work and the hours are slow,
I wish they’d hit the toilet but on the floor they go.
I have visions of escape, maybe go to Rome,
But ah my wife, my wife is now home.