Thursday, September 18, 2014


When I look in the mirror
I see, I resemble my mom a little
Yes, I carry her legacy
Sometimes I see her softness in my eyes

My mom’s sisters peep in too
Her forehead, or her stern look
All that I carry is borrowed
What is it that is just mine?

I will have a piece of them in me
When they leave their bodies and move on
I hope I will see my mom in me
Hear her voice and feel her warmth

Is that all it is? One pillar to another?
Genes and qualities that percolate down?
Seems as if it’s a mission to carry
And pass what I have carried, further.


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