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 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. ...
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