There is no connection
between the child that I was
and the old woman I have become.
Yes, we have the same blood
and perhaps the same skin,
although her blood was fresher
and her skin much smoother than mine;
our eyes are the same
but perhaps we see things differently now,
oddly enough, our hair has gone
from light and curly
to dark and wavy
but has returned to light and curly again.
but there is no connection
between her heart and mine
we see things so differently;
she had no lifelong experiences
to weigh and value and judge,
or to contemplate;
she knew so little, had not traveled
or married and had children;
she could not know what her life would be.
and I, I who have done it all,
look back and marvel
at her innocence,
but for me there is no connection.