Sometimes late at night I would hear daddy, his cries of pain echoing through the house as mommy would land blow after blow on his flesh. Making empty...promises daddy would beg for her forgiveness. After awhile she would give into him and the cries of pain would be replaced with screams of tormented ecstasy. And with out fail the next evening mommy would have that women propped up at the dinner table, fork in one hand spoon in the other, a plate filled with food as if at any time she was going. When the day came, the city paidA visit the scene to seeWhich, of the sculptors three should win--It was so quiet that a pinDropped could be heard; each of the three,Hammers and chisels in their hands,Stood poised, ready to carve their minds'Images into the jade, blind,As deaf, to the crowds in the stands.None wanted parrot or mynaBird, and none sought the ring of gold,Not if the truth is to be told,Nor e'en all the tea in China,And, no, they wanted not women;They wanted what all men most. More

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