“Mommy,
Am I different from Daddy?”
A surprise attack from my miniature warrior.
Words run from my mouth,
Escaping past my purely white defense
Leaving me alone with
The most curious of all creatures.
At a lost my gaze is caught,
By the figure in question.

Smooth ribbons
Golden from Midas’s caress
Stream across fair porcelain
On which are set brilliant blue stones
Framed by lines documenting his entire history.
Every laugh.
Every smile.
Which now focus on
The television, showing
Some prolific ball game.

“Mommy?”
Inquisitive eyes,
Warm brown
Hiding beneath a jungle of tight black curls
Which crown his head
Around sun kissed skin
Coffee brown
As mine.

He peers at me from my side.
As I search for the answer
But with my status,
Achieved after nine months trials,
It seems I never received
Instructions for this very
Instance.


Clad in blue jeans
And a red socks tee
Suddenly the answers clear
Recollection of every morning spent
By a little boy,
Mimicking every step and stance
Of the only father he has ever known.
So I tell him honestly,
That no difference can be seen.
And I hope he will always
Remember it that way.