A Man's Two Loves

The old saying is nothing new.
        I wondered how it could ever be true.   
"When a man marries some how or other
        He seems to always marry his mother."

I thought that some how I had missed
        When I wed and my Laurel did kiss
For mom was just a little small
        And Laurel was somewhat tall

And mom knows each doctor by name
        While sickness was not Laurel's game
So how could it be that in this life
        My mother was really just like my wife

Then it came me on this dark December
        That I was forced this truth to remember
For there lay my mother "at death's door"
        Yet every day we visited some store

Even the last day (I say with alarm)
        We all visited Knotts Berry Farm
And when I came home, what did I find
        My wife had only shopping on her mind

Although she was sick and wracked with pain
        She went to each store again and again
And I said to my self, "It is true, my brother,
        For I really have married my mother!"