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An Answer For Maurice
Five thousand years or more ago
A man, in peace, lived with his wife
But then, her father passed away
And thus began the days of strife.
They built a room and moved her in;
She quickly overran their space.
He, his beloved, often fought;
It was a sad, unhappy place.
They finally came to loggerheads;
Now you must choose! It’s her or me!
That night he slept beneath the stars;
It came to him, clear as could be.
Dear, I will build your mom a house
A house that you can clearly see
And I will even move her stuff
Then we can finally live free.
The wife agreed; she knew her mom
Would remain close, not far away
Because of all the stuff she had;
It was an easy thing to say.
The man got up before the sun
Announced he had a home to build
Grin on his face, spring in his step,
The man looked positively thrilled.
A fortnight gone, two weeks or more
At last they thought they heard the squeal
Here came the man, still with that grin,
Dragging a platform up on wheels.
He loaded Mom and all her stuff
Then headed back across the vale
And placed it all in her new house
Amidst protests to no avail.
His life improved, but not a lot
He still spends nights beneath the stars
Under that wagon, on a cot
He drifts to sleep, and dreams of cars.
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In response to Maurice Rigoler's question in the comments of Wheeler Dealer
Copyright ©
Jeff Kyser
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