The Things that Make Me Happy

Sipping hot coffee at the break of day.

Finishing the crossword puzzle, come what may.

Conducting Mozart with a wooden spoon.

Strumming my guitar, an old Bee Gees tune.

Listening to music, be it jazz or big band.

Watching my daughter lend a helping hand.

Or watching her paint another masterpiece,

While taking fried eggplant out of the grease,

Or frosting the top of a chocolate cake,

While my son asks me, what else did I bake?

Watching him chase down another fly ball…

Or discussing the Matrix, Plato and all.

Eating my mom’s cheesecake, though already full.

Talking the stock market, bear or bull.

Sharing bad jokes and memories of life.

And most important of all, being his wife.

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That’s My Girl

Just when I think my patience is spent,

And I have no more strength to abide,

Her demands and her mood swings never relent,

Then she shows me her softer side.

Not a lot different from other teens,

Her room is a mess, her music loud.

She’ll speak in a language—don’t know what she means,

Then she’ll do something to make me proud.

She talks about music, running and boys,

Waffling from elation to despair.

Make-up and warm-ups have replaced other toys,

But her life, she’s still willing to share.

She’s so busy, she’s always gone in a flash.

Seems our relationships’s always on the mend.

We misunderstand, we bicker, we clash,

The she tells me I’m her best friend.

My fondest hope is to keep it that way.

She is truly the light of my life.

I’ll hold on to her, as long as I may,

Until she becomes some lucky man’s wife.

Her father will tell her to “be who you are,”

“And everything will work out in the end.”

“Just be Maddy,” he says, “and you’ll go far.”

Maddy, my daughter, my friend.