Mother: A Poem

She is the meaning of strong.

My mold, my maker —

And yet she does not make me her.

Forged of her fire,

I wear her eyes filled with flowers and flame;

I stand on the opposite side of her coin.

We differ, are our own;

See same sights in unlike hues,

Our differing views,

But still — the stuff of our hearts is the same.

Mother: A Poem