One

The strands of hair you shed
Is my childhood

Love, now, is
Little feet that search each strand,
Toddling.

Mother’s name is written
In every filament
Of your grayed hair

Where were you
In the days when hair
Used to be worn in two plaits?

Two

One night,
Thinking I might get cold
You gave me a blanket

It was given you
By your mother
When you felt cold

This morning,
Daughter sleeps, covered by it

Which sunshine took away our chill?