Ode to a Mother’s Advice

I think that I did never need

my Mom’s advice, I did not heed:

“Brush your teeth” and “Tie your shoe”

and “Wash your hands after the loo!”

These cautious words meant naught to me

except to give me cause to flee.

 “Look both ways, clean up your room!”

or she might whack you with a broom.

And yet, today, I finally see

how much she really did love me.

I picked my nose and ate it too,

and held my breath ‘til I was blue.

 “Don’t stay up late—you’ll miss the bus!”

“Beware of strangers,” Oh, why this fuss?

Her good advice it went unheard,

meant nothing but some grownup words.

 “Finish your carrots” and “Eat your meat”

“Look both ways when you cross the street!”

Trying sometimes, her words I did find—

“Don’t play with it, you might go blind!”

Yet since she told me what to do,

I close my mouth now when I chew,

I don’t read in the dark, it hurts your eyes,

and like George Washington, I tell no lies.

I’m a grown-up now, she got me here;

nothing more is there to fear.

But through it all, her patience tried,

she gave her love, kept me by her side.

Of Mother’s advice, you should be glad,

so listen to Mom, yes…

but especially Dad.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom