I wear my father’s face.
I have inherited his gaze
his gentle way of seeing.

I wear my mother’s face
but none of her grace
only the delight in her eyes.

I look at them
in young photographs
and see me gazing back
from a time I didn’t exist.

Sometimes I wear
both faces at once
confusing myself
as to who I am.

Sometimes the smile drifts
or the eyes look away
catch a glimpse
of my own face

and for a split second
see me
as I truly am

a Venn Diagram
part of either set

me
the bit

in the middle.

Dónall Dempsey

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/me-mathematically-speaking-for-miss-s/