When I was a tiny baby crying all night, my mom sang to me and stayed by my side.
When I was tired and hungry, she gave me food and warm arms to sleep in.
When I was two running through the field, she made sure I was safe and kept me from danger.
When I fell and hurt myself, she gave me a hug and lifted me up.
When I was seven coughing badly, she said no ice-cream for me.
But I talked back loudly, "I should be allowed to eat some! Give it to me now!"
When I was nine watching scary movies, she said it'd give me awful dreams.
But I shouted back angrily, "I should be allowed to watch it! I'm not a baby!"
When I was a teen going out with friends, she said, "Please be back by ten!"
But I talked back again — "I should not be told what to do! I'm seventeen now!"
Now I'm an adult, thinking back to those times.
I coughed for days after eating that ice-cream.
And had scary dreams after watching that film.
I was late for school from staying out past ten.
I regret talking back, not listening to Mom.
Mom knows best, and for me she wanted only the best.
