One stands behind the other.
The glass going on and on.
And somehow each one says,
There I am.

There I am, says the older,
Halfheartedly chasing a soccer ball
Into the corner of the field,
Not caring who kicks it out.

There I am, says the younger,
Someday when a boy
Unbuttons my top,
And I'll have to accept
Silence or anger.

That is me in the innocence,
The tantrums, the toys.
That is me in the exposure,
The sobbing, the triumphs.

Life traces circles under the sun,
Round and Round, we go.
But my,
Doesn't it leave
A beautiful pattern?