Inherited Water

My reflection dances near the water's edge.

My mother's hands.

Distorted by ripples, the way time ages.

I lean forward, perched above the cliff's ledge.

The water shows my past like inked pages.

Leaning closer still until I see me.

Lines, wrinkles: a face aged over time.

I smile wide; this version of me is free.

My beauty shifted—and that's not a crime.

My grey hair shimmering under the moon.

I no longer worry what others think.

I've learned to love myself, and none too soon.

I notice something new, startled I blink.

The ripples cease, I think how could this possibly be?

My mother's face reflected back at me.

Oquirrh Keyes