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There came a time
when my mouth made my
loving mother cast me out
and I walked cold streets
scared of its stark recesses,
rethinking impetuousness,
wishing I could draw back words
and apologize...

unwilling

finding shelter in homes
where goals were sporting apparatuses,
and clothing or cars meant status,
while pantries lay bare - and furniture consisted of ONE chair.

I was scared

Mother's rules seemed constricting,
but empty bellies were things she never gave me
and brewery smells didn't arise in the night,
pacing back and forth beside your couch berth causing you fright

I mean...
my mouth ran 'em off
but still,
the knowledge that to sleep
could mean breech was kind of deep

My mother called me back,
punishing my stubborn ass.
She told me all the things I'd seen,
without even having to ask.

And though angry,
she enfolded me and made the experience a lesson,
the first time I fully realized,
a strict mom was actually a blessing.

I smiled inside while receiving my punishment due
Fully admitting that her common phrase uttered was actually true
While the pain it caused was something I could never like
She was honest in saying, “you know I beat your tail because I love you, right?”

*Thanks Mom.