History Repeats

When a child I was,

I used to be 

terribly afraid of my mother -

healthy and boisterous those days,

so much so that 

half of my childhood was spent

concealing matters she would dislike.

Now that she is old -

frail and ailing these days,

she is scared of me,

so much so that 

a major part of her agedness is spent 

revealing only matters I like.

History definitely does repeat itself -

the only part we can't sift however is,

which part to call the farce and which one tragedy.