Eyes
EYES
My mother’s been gone forty years or so.
My oldest son was born thirty years ago.
They’ll sight each other somewhere - not here -
And to one another they will draw near
And with just a glance it will appear clear
That both to me have been dear.
When I look at my son I see my mother :
And , yes, they would know one another,
Though she went before he came.
I picture their eyes - they are the same
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2010
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