When young, I marveled at my hands and toes,
Stepped forth on cautious feet, one at a time,
Grew my hair long, or cut it, as I chose,
Determined that my face was solely mine.
But yesterday I saw my mother's smile,
A winking in the mirror as I passed.
My father's crinkled eyes stared back, and while
I stopped I heard my grandpa's gentle laugh.
Each day I look, and there! Another trace
Of mother, father, blended into one.
I gaze a doubtful moment - yes, my face,
And yet not mine - theirs too, newly begun.
That mirror - look, a window, and in sight
A mosaic of love: ten thousand tiles of light.