Growing up on Bay Street was not always easy
I had a mother named Callie Mae who just didn’t play
Strong-willed was she, heads she bumped with me
She popped the whip if I gave her any lip
Fresh food from her garden we always ate
Never eating fast food, just what she would bake
Fruit cakes for Christmas she always sold
The neighbors came running with their bank rolls
Around the heater we all stood
Trying to stay warm and live in the hood
Hot chocolate and peanuts I remember we ate
Seven children to dress and we were never late
I remember my mother just pressing my hair
As tears came streaming, she said “don’t you dare!”
I had a mother name Callie Mae who just didn’t play
I could not figure out how to get my way
Missing church on Sundays was not an option
Hiding your shoes did not get you excused
If you caught a whooping, you had to go get your own switch
If you ran away from home...you could not stay long
My mother told me that I had to stay in school
Until my eighteenth birthday I had to keep all the rules
At midnight I waited to go see what I was missing
Heartaches and promises and empty kisses
Thank God, I had a mother who did not play
Who taught me about Jesus and what to say
Soon I would pray and thank the Lord
That He sent me a mother name Callie Mae
Who loved me dearly and did not play!
Original poetry by, 
Original Family Photos created using the PhotoFunia App
Creative Ideas in Living Color