Sunday, August 7, 2011

My Girl and Me

My Girl and Me

she is me, I am her
we are one and we are the same
she is what I used to be
when I was young
I am the woman
she will one day become
we are one
my daughter and me

the lines are blurred
is she me, or was I her?
dark blond tresses
spilling out of ponytails
that once were mine
now they are hers
excitement at a carousel
hers or mine? I cannot tell
non-stop talk at suppertime
comes from her lips, or was it mine?

I see two selves
in my house each day
her face a mirror
from yesterday
eyes of brown, and freckles sprinkled
mouse-brown hair that waves
where it will wave
the way her tongue moves by her lips
with concentration grave

her daddy is her hero
her mommy is her friend
baby brother is a willing slave
and that’s the way life goes
like mother, daughter
can’t help but wonder
where I end and she begins
she is my extension
into the next generation
I am roots from which she grows

we are strands of a single thread
bonded by love and heredity
we are one
my girl and me
Trish Boese