Little Sister

Her brown hair a mess of curls,
Her eyes a lively brown,
She twirls and twirls happily,
Proud of her paper crown.
Not a man could stop,
Her flow of words,
Babbling--yet beautiful,
Like the twitter of birds.
Pause--Take a breath,
Wipe the tears away,
Fast forward reluctantly,
And watch the horror play.
She leaps,
And tumbles,
Forgetting to rise,
Unmovable and stubborn,
She cries and cries.
Suddenly--There is a twist,
Something snapped,
And grabbed at my heart,
It cried in pain--and once again,
It tore it all apart.
How much I longed,
To take her in my arms,
And drive the pain away,
But she pushed and pushed,
Until I turned my back,
When she fell that day.
 

Author's Note

I often argue with my sister. That says enough.

Reviews

[Melissa]

I remember when I was growing up the tension that was between my sister and I. Five years separated us in age and it seemed a lifetime. Believe it or not years help to lesson that gap and we are the best of friends. It's learning to let the small things in life slide by and moving on. Life is so very brief and we never know from one day to the next if our family will be with us.

Your poem for me reflects that love deep inside, a reaching out to help even though in that moment she turned away from you. Your obvious pain could be felt. Compassion for a sister rang true.

Thanks for sharing this piece of yourself with us.