Your molten eyes of brown, your curly hair
Your skin a tan exactly as my own
I must have birthed you in my sleep somewhere;
For how else could I see me in your bones
When we don’t share a single drop of blood?
Now motherhood a thin line to be blurred
I’d sow the land to see your flower bud
To let you know that when you cry it’s heard
And when you speak I’d be there to reply.
I’m there when first you laugh from pouted lips—
They rest into a beak so much like mine;
I see your clumsy steps—you fall, you grip
          The carpet with your nails; smile on impact;
          Five years from now, just know I smiled back.