"No Poetry for Theodore"
My Husband is a nursing child.  He hates my Poetry!
My Poetry, to Him, Is Spoiled Milk!  Absolutely horrible,
To Theodore.  He Likes his loving sweet, warm and straight
 from my bosom, where he is a little baby nestled close held fast.
The instant i say something "Poetic", he gets furious! "Stop It!"
He Yells, at me, "Shut up!" and covers my mouth...Then cuddles in closer
 to my soft white body, warm and loving as ever.  No Poetry for him!