She used to know all the things there are to know, I swear.
And questions aired, or dared, to ask the answer she had there.
Like why cows moo, the sea goes blue and the point of Points of View.
She used to give advice to me that I would never spurn.
And lessons learned or money earned was always her concern.
Like how to shave, behave and bravely save the cash she gave.
She used to care about the things that I cared most about.
And falling outs or gadabouts she'd seldom not find out about.
Like a stolen kiss I'd just dismissed, that missed potential happiness.
She used to say she wasn't going to be my stand in dad.
But she had just a tad of lad inside to make me just as glad.
Like she, for me, was more than he could ever be, and see we had affinity.
He claims he had a hand in raising me to be a man.
She taught me more than he could ever try to understand.
The truth is, I learned manhood only, solely from my mum.
She's a greater man than he is after all that's said and done.