Why Limit Love?

Today, I visited a very old woman.
I thought she was a man at first.
Age does that, obliterates all traces
of vanity and feminine glory.
A big, oozing wart on her cheek
kept drawing my gaze, hypnotic,
and in my heart, disgust surged.
She reached out for my hand.
Right next to my not liking, love arose,
awakened by hers. She smiled.
"Have you had lunch?"
In her mind, I was her daughter.
I flashed back on my own mother
who died two months ago.
And decided right there, why limit love?
I could become a daughter again,
if only for that moment.