Tomorrow’s Yesterday

A mother is a daughter,
An answer and a question,
Sometimes a statement of fact
or feelings never spoken.
History repeats itself?
In veiled form, for those looking.
Why do we keep forgetting?
We don’t want to remember.
But you have all those pictures
and other little clues boxed
and put away under beds.
Shh–that is for just in case
or a very rainy day
or a cold, long, sleepless night.
Well, wouldn’t it be better
to spend the time together
long before it is too late?
Is my hand too old to hold?
Not for me, sweet, not your hand.
Aren’t hands made for holding on?
Your were always very smart.
I’m just like you, just like you.

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