The photographs stand side by side,

one faded colour, one black and white,

two classes of schoolchildren a generation apart,

traditionally arranged, tallest at the back

and in each sits a girl in the short-child chairs,

one fringed and dark, one plaited and fair,

both staring ahead, hands on laps, sombre-faced

following instructions with fingers laced,

but with one small thumb in unconscious rebellion,

poking proudly aloft to break the standardised vision.

Across the years a mirrored gesture

linking mother with daughter.


Sometimes -not when looking directly –

but in a shop window, obliquely,

or in an angled wing mirror, viewed quickly,

by the clench of my jaw

by my wary eye

by the set of my hands on the steering wheel

I see my mother reflected in me.



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8 responses to “Mirror

  1. When did you first notice that rebellious gesture? Was yours also unconscious? Or something so small you’d noticed and approved of;)

    Lovely observations of life as always, Louise.

  2. Wow really lovely piece of writing. #theprompt

  3. I can completely relate. Sometimes I see my mother, or grandmother reflected back at me. #theprompt

  4. This is beautifully expressed, and how wonderful to find that small gesture linking you together. And, isn’t it interesting how we see our mothers in the tiniest of things? I look nothing like my mother, but I reflect her in manner and words, more and more as I get older! Thank you so much for sharing with #ThePrompt x

    • louisek2014

      Thanks Sara. It shocks me sometimes, to have a moment of recognition, and inhabit that feeling when she’s no longer here

  5. A wonderful piece of writing. It is funny, because over the last few years I have noticed my mum in me more and more #ThePrompt

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