Her Daughter

It was morning during recess,

I met this in Japanese dress,

Sharing me some dried golden flesh,

Of a fruit with sweet memories.

It was the first time to meet her,

But it seemed she was no stranger,

I knew a girl who was like her,

Way back when I was kinder.

She smiled like the girl I knew,

But she felt shy when as she did so,

Did she know the girl that I knew?

She proudly replied, "I do."

That girl is a girl no longer,

A full-grown woman, a mother,

And this was somehow made me tear,

She told me, "I am her daughter."