Becoming Her

In the storefront window, I glimpse something new,

a tilt of my head, just like you used to do.

Fingers tucked back, the same gentle way,

as I reach for an apple, my thoughts drift and sway.

Each glance at the mirror reflects every line,

your laughter, your worries, a thread so divine.

The echoing gestures, familiar yet strange,

transforming in seconds, in heart's gentle change.

It wasn't a thunderbolt, but soft morning light,

a realization that wrapped me up tight.

With a brush of your hand, I see what I’ve grown,

in the quiet of life, the seeds you have sown.