Wesley said this to his daddy thinking it was amusing. Not knowing that his mama would be wildly swinging. I said to Wesley, "son, about me; this is not beneficial." "Your father is about to make my head raw and artificial." However, Wesley would not change his detailed story. Now, I could see the angels and God in all his glory. Coy said screaming, "Marver! What do he mean by this?" Both of us began to spew fire from our eyes; we did hiss. "Marver! I'll ask you again; did a man come in here?" Coy's questions had come with snarls and were severe. Wesley began to cry and things were getting out of reach. Thinking to myself; what lessons were he trying to teach? Coy's interrogation was becoming more and more dogmatic. As though, Wesley was in a prison camp; all too systematic. Wesley was fast making me a put-out-on-the-street wife. Something that I thought I would not endure in this life. I was also about to become a beat up forgotten divorcee. What we needed was a neutral stranger as a marriage referee. Telling fuming Coy the whole mixed-up story; I tried to explain. However, Coy was the lawyer and the judge; "you're sustained." Wesley should have won an Oscar; he played the part. While in the process, I am losing my head and my heart. Wesley would not change one word of what he had said. Right then, I knew I should call the undertaker; I'm dead. Coy and I agreed to cool off for awhile, like tomorrow. Before we both suffer a long term tragedy of sorrow. The next day, Wesley recanted his story; "this is funny!" I screamed at him, "boy! you almost made me a dead bunny!" Copyright (C) 1996 Marva L. Dowdin
Reason for writing:
This is a true story of what happens when your kids make
up tall tales and think that it is funny. We often laugh at
it now, but would rather not go through this again. This
poem is one of three hundred from my poetry books for
publication.
Marva L. Dowdin
Birth sign: Not entered
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