My mother is the necessity of my intention,
Making me want to do the things I should.
A sloppy boy born of sloth would she shun,
My mother. Is the necessity of my intention
That in her presence I don’t dawdle but run?
I would please her, be a pleaser if I could.
My mother is the necessity – of my intention –
Making me want. To do the things I should.
* * *
Posted at dVerse Poets Pub for Poetics, where Jilly is asking us to write adages with a twist. I misread the prompt and am now cleaning lemon juice from my keyboard.