Freckled

On my skin I see memories;

freckled reminders of moonlit nights

and warm days spent in the sun.

Each spot, a tattooed moment in time.

A souvenir, tracing my journey

from babe to woman,

from her to me,

from then to now.

I see the lines form under my eyes

and cross my skin.

Lines shaped by rivers of time -

flowing, as blood flows through my veins,

around lentigo islands

through mountainous tissues

and hills of mole and tag.

I see, in the reflection of my eyes,

traces of past, specks of present

and a glint for the unknown

of a future I’ve not yet met.

I smile at the sun-freckled face in the mirror,

and she smiles back,

both of us knowing

that I’ve been and am

where and who I’m meant to be.

Born of stardust.

Mapped by sunbeams.

Grounded in respect.