A tribute to Mummy

My Mummy's here to visit finally, after I've been here for for four years. This poem is a tribute to her.

Mummy's cheekbones 

Cheekbones.

They prop up the face,

give it depth, dimension, definition,

yet cannot quite be seen by the self in the mirror,

only by others, 

especially at an angle that catches the light,

as though its shy beauty is not for the self

but for others to behold -
and that's only if you look closely enough.

They say I have your cheekbones.