Lord, I want to thank you for the food upon my plate,
And please ask my wife to forgive me for showing up late,
A few hours ago my dinner was both tantalizing and hot
But, now it is unappealing and cold in the pot.
My wife had slaved over a hot oven for a meal to create
Now look at me, I come home hungry and delayed for our date,
My wife screams at me as though I am a criminal caught
Now my dinner is very cold, and my wife is very hot.
Lord, I asked for my wife's forgiveness before I sit down to eat
As she is still mad, as she stares at that cold piece of meat,
Lord I ask you a request before I grab a fork and a toothpick
Please tell my wife to forgive me, and please don't let me get sick.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem