Wednesday, August 22, 2007
With one eye she watches... her hands in the water;
Just who is this boy? Is he good for my daughter?
She grabs for the towel, these dishes can wait;
She's got to find out now, before it's too late.
They get up to leave as she enters the room
And she begs them to stay just a moment or two;
She's asking "intentions", he's missing a movie
And a young woman's eyes say "Mom, don't do this to me..."
Am I caring or jealous? Am I holding too tight?
Just two of the questions she'd wonder all night...
And would it be easier if he was still here?
(For her husband had left her in June of last year).
With one eye she steals a last glimpse through the curtain...
Just who is this boy? A mom never is certain;
And as they pull away, there's just two things to know...
She's alone again tonight, and it's hard to let go.
© Ciprianowords Inc. 2007