when i look and see
the yesterme
not the me of today
i find myself wondering where
that young woman went.
the little girl grew
and in place was me
but i feel old,
so much older than
i ever dreamed to be.
i find the grey hairs
and color them away
perhaps i'm in denial
or by chance there's still
a young woman
in the mother,
the little girl,
the lover,
the woman,
that's me.
