The Bad Marriage

A quick poem I wrote for fun, wondering if people get the joke.

I worked all morning to feed the chickens,
And all I asked of you was to put the wheelbarrow away while I went inside to rest.

Storm clouds had gathered and if you didn't, it might fill up with rain.

You didnt.

Instead I watched you sitting there,

The red wheelbarrow glazed with rainwater.

And there was me, holding a crumpled up note you'd taped to the fridge.

I didnt even get to eat the cold plums Id been saving.