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Mother knows

The odour of an apple pie.
Fresh baked and set aside to cool.
Would tempt a stronger soul than I
to discard sense and play the fool.
Beneath that crisp and golden crust
there lie stewed apples rich and sweet.
Arousing a small boy’s greedy lust.
My mother is nobody’s fool
she knew just what I hand in mind
and well before I broke the rule,
She took a switch to my behind.
It was my turn I had to learn
though mother’s kind she can be stern.

4-Sep-08

http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Added by Poetry Lover
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