She Said, He Not So Much – a poem

My father hardly spoke. My mother never quit. I’ve grown up with this yoke all because of it.

You want to say it all like your mama did but then you get the call to keep it all hid.

The trick is in the way you sit the nest of what you have to say to say it best,

or if not best than better than whatever comes to mind, you try to say what matters and leave the rest behind.

So thank you Mom and Dad for the Spratt-like thing you did in the way you got it said all the days that you were wed.

Put one and one together and this is what you get; it’s just I don’t know whether or what to make of it.

#Poem