Life in the everyday appears a most ordinary hue, Too close to the eye piece, it’s easy to miss wonders in front of you. Letters weave into words, words stitch into lines, Frames into film. Magic, approves Eisenstein. If our book of pictures ran in years, We’d see two first, and then three in the next here. A new life, a new face, a new world right where we’re at - Your mother like a magician most majestic pulled a rabbit out of her hat. If our book of pictures ran in months or at a time two We’d see the great rope trick before us. Now, though, the magician would be you. Lying still at first. Next, sitting upright. Panache? A whole lot. Turn the page to see you take your first steps, standing taut. No matter which leaf we open in our book of pictures and memories What’s most plain, what’s clear as crystal to see - The most beautiful bit of magic yet is this clone, at once giant and small The best version of your mother, the best version of me, the best version of us all.
