ancestry, a family tree,
from you to my father, to my mother.
A lifetime of memories
makes a choir.
Though you may have the solo,
there is also a duet,
and on and on it goes,
hundreds of voices intertwining
to make the past into the present.
You are there
because even when you are miles away,
you are also standing next to me
with every memory I make, every action I take.
Creased skin is reflected
in the rosy cheeks of the child,
an hourglass with each grain of sand a person,
pouring into, flowing with,
the current of time,
each grain of sand, each water drop,
combining to make the future,
to make the children, and the grandchildren, and the great-grandchildren, and forever on it goes.
But, just know, my grandmother, my grandfather,
and everyone before,
there is you in everything I do –
for you have left your fingerprints on the story that is my life.