A Thing of Beauty

by lonewolfpoetry

I first saw you bound up like a miniature mummy

basking under the gaze of your mother, your eyes

screwed shut, lips slightly pursed.

Your ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes

softly kneading the air, dreaming.

I was an outsider here, not part of the holy trinity,

a family formed from nine nurturing months.

It shocked me, that burning look from parent to child,

a look of tender love and fierce, savage protection.

Is this how my mother looked at me? Still looks at me?

As a thing of beauty even with the scars of mistakes,

the flaws and blemishes of a life truly lived.