The two of us: mother and daughter—
One rocking the other,
And I grew.
The two of us: mother and teenager—
Arguing at each other,
But I knew.
The two of us: mother and daughter—
Comforting each other.
Then she died. It was too true.
Now a mother and two daughters I see.
Can I pass to them all that she passed to me?
(c) January 1993 "ana mae vara"