My mother has always loved my hair
A mysterious honey blonde that appears once or twice a generation
Sometimes she holds it under her chin
to see it glow on her skin
like a buttercup
Sometimes she winds it around her hand
as if she were going to chop it off

And only once, I heard her whisper,
"What if it had been me?"

I have always loved my mother
A meticulous chestnut brown who has always known what she wanted
Sometimes I listen to her speak
and press her hand to my cheek
like a blanket
No one explains the world to her
as if she's been locked in a tower

And more than once, I've wondered,
"What if it had been me?"