Who would have thought?
Never thought it would come to this!
While sitting in Mom’s old chair
these things I would reminisce.
My mother’s hands, my mother’s eyes
My mother’s hips, my mother’s thighs.
My mother’s teeth, her stale of my breath I smell
I’m falling apart, my bodies is going to hell!
When I was younger some use to say
You’ve your mother’s blue eyes, with that hint of grey.
You’ve her nose and rosie cheeks and her blond silky hair
Where is it now I ask you?
Because I sure don’t see it anywhere!
Why is it these things, I think of now?
bringing me this veil, of blackened cloud?
Why couldn’t I still have what was mine I’ve earned?
And not that of my mother’s, old she had plowed?
I don’t want to live in the image of someone else
I’ve always wanted to be, just myself!
Wonder if this is what my mother had thought too?
when she reminisced about her mother and herself?
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