Her words, liquid gold,
flow into the mold
that I am becoming;
a woman. This image
she instills in me
will not tarnish,
will not grow dull
with time. She is
what I am becoming,
I am what she has been.
Mothers of this earth,
our rich dark hues
the backdrop for
the continuation of
humanity, and if you will
I will pass on to you
what she makes of me.