My Mom Is Me; I Am My Mom Poem by Angel Jordan

She was always there for me,
to wipe away my tears.
She's heard every plea,
witnessed all the years.

She's heard all the Drama,
Caught all the lies.
This lady is my Momma,
and I was born with her eyes.

I have her small feet,
and her feisty attitude.
Curves that aren't discreet,
I got those from her, too.

I have her tiny hands,
and fire in my eyes.
She gave me her brunnette strands,
and the passion inside.

I am my mothers spitting image,
her delicate genes reborn.
Picture perfect collages,
edges a little worn.

I am my mommy's daughter,
her first and foremost.
I was the first thing to matter,
from coast to cost.