Make Your Last Dance Count: a bref double

If asked, I do sing father-daughter songs
at weddings; it’s the worst part of my job:
to put on false sincerity and smile
through lyrics so trite they make my skin crawl.

It’s not that sentiment is always bad;
but who in their right mind would sing along
and waste these precious moments on such dreck?
My daughter deserves better, all in all,

not some reduction to the cute and fuzzy.
How ’bout some simple truths, conveyed with style,
that recognize her grown-up, human status
beyond a princess at some wishful-thinking ball?

Wake up, your little girl is not a child;
if you’ve missed that, you’re doing something wrong.

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