Why I love her
"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."
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