Mothers and Fellers

It's Children's Hour at Poetic Bloomings

Mother tells me to clean my ears

To eat my greens

To wash my face

Mother tells me to pick up my toys

Be nice to my sister

And put things back in place

Mother tells me that worms ain’t fer pockets

And mother tells me

To let the frog go

Mother tells me I’m growin’ too fast

But I think I’m growin’

Awfully slow

Mother tells me to shush, baby’s sleepin’

But I was simply

Chasin’ my ball

Sometimes I think that mothers and fellers

Really don’t understand

Each other at all

Mother tells me to mind my manners

She tells me its bedtime

When it’s quarter-past noon

She says do your homework

Do your best, and remember

You’re gonna be a man someday soon

Mother tells me I’m her little sunshine

She tousles my hair

An’ hugs me real tight

She makes my favorite fruit cobbler for dinner

And she doesn’t scold me

When I snitch a wee bite

At bedtime she listens

And I tell her my thinkin’s

She smiles and tucks me in with my football

Well, maybe, perhaps mothers understand fellers

Just a weeny-teeny little bit

After all

© Janet Martin

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