There was a time when
femininity
brought to mind the way
a smile would form on mum's lips.
When growing up looked like
her comforting hands filling up
with water under the sink.
Beauty
was the way her dupatta
draped from her shoulders, and
success
the clicking of her heels.
Yesterday,
I caught a reflection of water
running through fingers
of pink toenails on bare feet
I admired the allure of
blue silks, and
décolletage,
of kind eyes
that looked at me
from beyond the looking glass.
There she stood,
femininity,
smiling at me.