chloe

you will never get to see me.

when i used to be pretty,
my hair shone like meek gold,
and i had thoughtful eyes -
light glowed within,
and i was a child who
loved to read and write.

i will never get to see you.

you will always be pretty,
your hair bouncy brown, eyes blithe and whimsy
and from me, you inherit one thing.
night time, in the quiet of your room,
absorbed in a book,
you will scribble a few words.

i am not mommy.

someone else will introduce
those chewy gummy worms,
the three-wheel mini-bike,
the joy of pink,
80s music
and a bitty brown puppy.

i am not grandma.

someone else will tell you
not to squish flowers,
not to startle her
when she's making you soup,
not to let rain
or uncouth people get you down.

you are faraway from me.

i let go, sweetheart.
by now, i should get by with moments
that never took place
like hearing you call me Nanay¹
and you dreaming in the car seat.
i have hugged you
so many times.