Mother

There she is again,
As always when I least expect her.
In the storefront window
As I look at my reflection.
In the mirror when I check my hair
And sometimes she looks back.
I see that she’s getting gray.
She looks at me through a misty windowpane
And holds my gaze.
When did I become her?
When did the child become mine?
Where did I go when I became my mother?

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