Ideas change, like

the places, like the faces.

   Much like me; different, 

each time the mirror

looks back.          I can see

lines on my face becoming

deeper as the years progress,

altering a view I only think

I have witnessed 

          in the past.

   Do I see my father, or my

mother in me? Familiarity.

A resemblance; always

meant to be.

© 2026 j.g. lewis