IF THIS IS A MAN I: THE WIFE'S TALE

Night is bringing down the curtains on day
My husband is late, as usual
His meal is getting warm, as usual
This is getting usual, I must say
I know where he is at the moment
Shredding off his youth with younger beauties
Paying them for my usually free bed-warming duties
Casting me aside likea worn out garment
He wasn't like this before;
When he uprooted me, from my family's garden that morning.
Is this that same man I left my family for?
And now am just a tool for child conception.
As the clock arms gather, at twelve, in matrimony,
I once again come to the conclusion;

He isn't coming home for dinner.