He makes a big mistake
and waits for his wife’s take
on what happened.
Silence. Then she simply said,
“Things happen.”
He breathed a sigh of relief,
then she made a mistake
and waited for his take
on what happened.
Silence. Then he asked,
“How could you let this happen?”
Then she asked, “Who’s more
forgiving in this relation?”
Silence. Then he said,
“Tu, mi amor. Lo siento,
mi esposa, mi amor.”
He breathed a sigh
hoping the romance language would fly,
then waited to avoid grieving.
She simply said, “On the
couch you will be sleeping,
mi loco pollo,
for a night or two-o,
but please stop weeping.”
He cried, “Without you, dear,
I have to be sleeping?”
“For two nights only
and don’t you dare go sneaking.”
He cried, “Touché, my multi-lingual
wife. You win. I quit.
No longer will I say
I am the forgiving one
even for fun.
I’m just a big, less than forgiving, twit.
Mi esposa, mi amor, my truly
forgiving mate,
to your bed, if I may.”
She said with a smile on her face,
“Two days from now will be okay.”