A Poem about Aging as Mother to a Daughter

Aging Gracefully

I’ve never been thin enough.

I’ve never been tall enough.

When I was young enough, I looked too young.

Now the evidence of my life weighs down the flesh of breast, belly, jaw

Slipping from my bones like honey

toward the earth.

Their eyes no longer linger on me.

They no longer assess

what I no longer offer.

Their eyes catch on her.

The youth which sprung from my abdomen, galloping across time before I can flip

the calendar page.

The heir to every question ever asked

to my lonely bedroom mirror.

A ponderance of precision.

Met for the sliver of a moment.

She will only know she touched it

when it’s gone

When it matters less,

but for the regret of missing it entirely.