A poem for my youngest sister
I was lost somewhere between 7 and 8
You, were a bundle of silly,
spoiled and small
I was tall
Though not quite reaching the height
to where I could appreciate you
I could count the quarters
I found between the cushions
yet when it came to your value
It would be years
until I could do that kind of math
And now the equation all makes sense…
Two dimes, a nickel and a penny later
I’m no longer looking for change.
I’m turning to the one that remains
beside my shoulder.
On cracked cement,
On sand and rocks
Through each year like a breath
That can’t be held for too long
I proudly watch your wisdom age
though I secretly hope a small part of you
will stay young enough.
Young enough to sometimes need me.
Young enough to always learn.
Young enough to grow older.
Where joy meets a prayer,
my eyes recognize you there.
You, 3rd of 3
Half like one and half like two
Or that’s how I often saw you
Now in the very center of your soul
I see a spark all your own
That only your fingerprints can ignite
In time you’ll leave a blazing path
That will knock the wind out of heaven
And shock the rain too hard to fall
And I’ll be there
with a smile and a tear
Bragging to the stars that I know you.