ECHOES

I lived around her for years,

Never bothering to notice

The little parts of her that made up me

I always fancied myself the mirror image of my father.

From the eyes to the ears to my smile,

From the fire-engine red Irish temper,

To a fondness for a good drink, garlic, and good food.

But now thatI'm out from under my mother's wing,

I start to notice the little things in her that make up me.

I realize how much she echoes in me

When did my mother's illumination shine down on me?

The day I opened my mouth

And heard my mother's laugh echo where mine should have been.

2-9-2000

rev. 8-26-2003