Last Daughter
What is that face,
In Mother's eyes,
Adorned in lace,
A shrewd disguise?
And who's the bloke
Who'll mate with her
Through cigar smoke
And cans of beer?
He's forty years
And rich as hell.
He'll buy her furs
And treat her well.
She's twenty four
And Mother cries.
She's hers no more.
The family dies.
written and © by David Spelling 5-26-87
layout © 2008 Dunn by Paul