Always the reflection of the little one in her eyes:
Supple & smooth the skin that is part of her,
The flesh no longer distinguishable where it began
& where it ended. The serenity held by what she holds
Reminds her of loveliness she once knew. This was her.
In such smallness, she remembers how her innocence
Won praises when it was her in the arms of admirers.
& she was beautiful even before: that this beauty
Never paled, only whitened, now apparent
In her precious’ skin, is something
She is thankful for, the way the baby is for milk,
The way she is for the baby: the survival
Of beauty & continuity.
(For Janine)
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