Mother

[poe]

Mother, I feel blue,
at the thought of only you.
Sweet cravings for chocolate,
and the light which calls the
camera's switch.

Three daughters you bore
acquainted at the starting gate.
Your husband flawed for
your madness he abhorred.


Hurry to the switch.
Make your magnate rich, for
ever have you slipped
on foolish faithless rips

[rowens]

It seems wordy, but then your name is poe.
How many daughter? Oh, three daughters.