As you begin your twentieth year —
the woman in you nearly grown — the little girl
residing there exclusively not long ago
making do as roommate to the memories
that you, and I, and Mother share.
And sometimes when that little girl appears —
framed in the light of your lovely woman’s face —
it startles us with remembrance
and then gratitude
for who you were,
for who you are,
and who you’ll choose to be.