Once I was a teen,
That's when Mum got mean,
Dragged us off on long drives,
Her whinging did give me hives,
Maybe she could not hack us growing,
Autonomy we wanted knowing,
We tried not to be like our mother,
Turned each into totally another,
Nag, nag, nag and moan,
Not again,  I'd  sit at home,
With music and a fur pal,
A book, a pen, a suburban gal......
So, in half a century,
Not much changed for me,
I sit and scribble, solo,
But never alone, my muse, lo!