the same boy

I am the same boy
my mother
bent over
and whispered a song
to as
best she could.
these same ears listened
to the stories
she read from worn books,
the same mouth
that opened for a spoon
as she
fed me.
I am the same boy,
that was held in her arms
when I cried,
ran from as she chased
me with
a paddle.
laughing together,
uncatchable, always.
now she
doesn't remember
any of it, but that
takes nothing
away from the wonder
of her life.