Bloodline By Emily Haywood

I am half my mother; I have her red hair,

Her hands, her feet.

Her creative heart,

Her insatiable appetite,

And I write my ‘g’s

Just like her.

My mother is half

Of my grandmother.

The same hair,

The same smile,

The same unkind

Stubbornness.

We exist as mirrored images.

A whole, a half,

A quarter, one after another.

We are each

The first girl of our

Generations.

Vines of a family tree,

That never stops growing.