Hereditary, Part 2

I have
My grandmother's chin
When I sew and knot the thread 
Her hands are mine

Her love is mine 
when I dig my fingers in the roots
Of my garden
Her hands are mine 

When I look at my eyes
I see the lines and think of her
Her love is mine

You are still there
But so is she
I look to her when I can't stand the sight of you
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

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