Mother and Child

You were me,

more or less,

thirty years later.

Same blue eyes,

same curled hair.

Always staring,

always thinking.

My mother always said

I was off with the fairies.

You were the apple

of so many eyes,

maybe I got jealous.

Maybe I'd give anything

to be in your position.

So many people,

so much love.

Well now look.

I'm the one consoled.

They're scared to look at you.

Unlucky.