She wanted to get back to the days of their ‘court’, When only ‘sweet nothings’, his mouth would retort. Not all those ‘useless’ ‘leader board’ reports Each one only wound up her anger (more tort).
She pulled her hair out so much she wore a wig. Absolutely necessary…(the patch was so big). Like someone shaved her head…(while dancing the jig!)
There was plenty of space for a full-sized rig!
Golf was clearly his ‘Achilles Heel’
To remove his face from the ‘mags’, you’d have to peel1 He devoured it all, like his favorite veal
It made him feel free to do cart wheels!
The worst of it was when he’d ignore Her calls for supper. (His mind was ‘on tour’!) He couldn’t shake it. (This powerful lore) Like he’d found some precious gold ore!
Excited by a putt, he’d always stutter
Depressed by a bogey, he’d often mutter. Either way, she didn’t know what he uttered Standing there, her nerves could only shudder!