My Mother Lives in Me – by Charmaine Candappa
I see my shadow in the afternoon sun
I see her silhouette
Trailing my footsteps
The stoop of my neck, my gait, my height
My mother lives in me
Mother stands behind me at the mirror
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She is never gone
Her memory is as deep as an engraving
Gossamer as cobwebs, delicate as a watermark
My mother is never gone.
Charmaine.
