Mother
Generous to a fault,
stubborn as a mule;
a bit older than dirt
but as a general rule-
we treasure your smile,
love your sense of humor;
we applaud your *****
and we've spread the rumor-
that in your younger days
you ate fatback and greens
and could wield a switch
that made us shoot our beans.
In spite of all the memories
and recurring nightmare scenes,
we're proud to call you Mom
and glad we've got your genes.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment