I look in the mirror
And see my mother’s eyes
My hair is hers as well
For better or worse…
Graying some…
At least it’s all there

My father I see not at all
Until temperament
Comes to mind…
To call me mild-mannered
Mostly true…BUT…
Crossing me you’ll rue

I think my mother
Must have been shy
Socializing was the
Last thing on her mind
Devoted mother or martyr?
Perhaps a deadly brew

My father…the other side
Of the family coin
Was garrulous with all
Until he got home…
I learned from him
To talk to strangers

We are who our parents make us
Far beyond our birth
A need to feel wanted
A need to feel loved
If it isn’t clear to you
You wonder if they care

Or did they only do
The same as what they
Went through as children
Not knowing for sure…
Where they stood?
I suspect it’s true

Whatever your feelings
Whoever you are…
Find the pieces of you…
When the missing ones fit
You won’t need glue…
All you need is love, it’s said

I hope that’s true

© 2016 Robert Mihaly
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  1. bbeyes4 · May 2, 2016

    Oh Robert… I really like this! We are a mix of our parents. Sometimes physically, sometimes temperament, sometimes both. Well written my friend!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. artifiswords · May 8, 2016

    Even adopted kids…but there, it’s more that they adopt mannerisms and likes/dislikes. Thanks always, Suzanne.


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