by Dave Hood
Her name’s Sue,
a trophy wife
whose living the domestic life.
She wears the pants, enjoys a good rant,
demands her way, ignores fair play.
She pouts and shouts and doubts his love,
smashes dishes when he doesn’t abide with her wishes.
She believes she is always right, often starts the fight,
argues about everything and anything.
She doesn’t work, prefers to sit,
watch soaps, run up the credit card
on weekly shopping sprees.
She cooks and cleans, makes the bed
when it’s right for her,
prefers to work out at the gym,
drink coffee with the gals
She’s stopped wearing her wedding ring,
she’s seeking a fling,
with the stud up the street
with a guy named Don Juan.
She visits a therapist every week
where she weeps,
complains that her husband’s a “lazy lout”,
refers to him as “the creep”,
grumbles that he prefers to drink beer,
watch baseball, leer at pretty, young women,
than provide his devoted attention,
imagines that after work, he staying out late
because he’s on a date.
He is to blame, what a shame, she brags
to friends and family.
Yet, she continues to play the marriage game.
Otherwise, she has no fortune or fame,
Just her maiden name.
Day by day, his mind wanders away,
It’s just a matter of time
before he packs his bags,
walks out, slams the door,
leaves her behind,
starts a new life without any strife.
And she’ll be left alone
in her empty home
as the grieving trophy wife.