If I was to describe her poetically
She's role her eyes and frown
She's to the point, explains phonetically
Always planned, with details written down.

The first to arrive at the party,
and lone behold, last to leave
Her buzz down to shiraz partly
But mainly her free spirit, or so I believe

Never one to hold herself back,
She'll sing, dance and chat to all,
And manages to keep her dignity intact.
Forget the belle, she rocks the ball.

Yet in her I confide
Catching me whenever I fall.
I feel there is no secret to hide,
As she has raised me to stand tall.

Over my 15 years I've learned
We are very much alike each other
And only one thing makes me concerned,
Prematurely, I've turned into my mother!