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short poem

The sound of time

We were walking the same path
she- in colours
me- in hues.
A path everyone keeps
talking about.
I steal glances to make sure I’m okay
she glances to make me feel okay.
We crossed oceans
one heavy with depth
Another heavy under the depth.

The intensity with which
one resemble their mother
is terrifying.
For a few days or so,
like the waves we leave
then return
we always come back
there’s always home, in mother.

Wrapped hands around knees
The thrill of beginnings in my heart
without realising
I keep turning into my mother.