(for Mecca)

My daughter's friend thinks she's pregnant
she can't tell her own mom, so I'm "it".
I ask lots of questions, I get fewer answers
as my old girl-friend looks on . . .

We're shopping on Melrose, for a dress
of perfect selection to impress
daughter's first time, at Grammy's line
and my old girl-friend looks on . . .

Dark eyes framed by "Barbie's" face
even darker, her skin's so graced
by what Mecca's earned-well
through the years, learned well
in ballet and upper-class style. . .

Yet there is no pretense to her-
money, brains-won't convince her-
until she sees a heart she believes
genuinely loves in this life . . .

My daughter's friend thinks we're crazy,
laughing 'til our eyes are hazy.
I get the bill, Mecca pays it still,
and I can't help but notice;

she's weathered through my promises
broken or kept, still she wishes
the best for me.

Love's made a key
for good friends,

oh, Answered Wish. . .

copyright 2007 Rose Loya