Steaming mom ( humor) – K.B

Steaming mom

 
Every Sunday I cook,
I cook my mom.
Slowly bring it
To boiling,
Add some spices
And in no time
She explodes
And I have
A laugh.

Every Sunday,
She cleans her
House,
Despite
A failing knee
And much loud
Complaints.

Dad becomes
A punching ball,
Stoical and ascetic,
Eating candy
When she’s not
Looking.

The house belongs
To her every sunday.
She walks like a rocket
With a lot of nasty
Words in the mouth,
Insulting anyone
On her way.

Then, suddenly,
She’s done with
The tasks
She set herself
And to no other.

She showers,
Goes to her room
And recoils like
A baby in her
Pyjama.

She looks
At videos
With candid eyes.
That’s when I go
Talk to her and
Sometimes
Earn a hug.

Sometimes ,
I sleep at her feet.

I love to feel
Her rebounded
Back and her poney
Tailed hair.

We don’t speak much.
Her claws are off
After she pissed us
Off and destroyed
The weekend.

This time, we’ll go
Out to leave her
Rambling on
Her own.

We’ll go
Gamblin
The little
Time we have
With my dad
In museums,
Cinemas.

I’ll be walking
Ahead,
And he’ll be
Miles behind.
( old man)

( trumpet blowing).

 

 

K.B

 

 

 

All rights reserved. 2019.

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