"Why do you, son,

desire, worship and adore

this girl of yours?"

my mother's query bore.

I started with the way

she puts her make up on.

Her perfections, I swear, lay

in everything she's ever shown.

When she drives my car

like the world is hers only.

Or when she takes me so far

that I forget I was ever lonely.

Her eyes, dear mother, shine

brighter than the sun in July.

And her laughter, her incline

sweep me up and force me to fly.

A look and "Change her now"

my mother's lips did part.

"Cause never did you vow

that you loved her for her heart."