My girl scout.
T'was the morning of camp out. I had to prepare
I knew that my hip teenage daughter'd be there.
I knew she'd be picky 'bout all that I'd say
I wanted to please her so she'd let me stay.
The first think I did was to shelve all my books.
I shaved and wore skin cream to upgrade my looks.
I had a renewing of my brain synapses
And one-by-one purged out the rest of my sin-lapses.
I thought I was ready this time to please-please her
To make her calm, happy and to fully ease-ease her.
But all baby boomers, old, as such as I am,
One whose war era is called "Viet
Nam."
Can only take on him the role of a dad.
That I do well and it makes me glad-glad.
So I wish that I could be modern, cool-cool.
Just like the kids who she knows in high-school.
Maybe one day I can do that, some way.
Yes, maybe the future - but not yet today.
So I went to camp-out, read tales by the fire.
I fed her and hugged her and hoped to inspire
And found that we bonded and our love increased.
And all her anxiety, thence was released.
And still I wasn't close to cool-cool
But none of that mattered much when we were through.
I may never be like her teen-age best friend.
But she has both her and me too in the end.
Sigh.
Love you dear.
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