White spots on a nose and baby feet.
Shadows in the little house
You not old enough to fear.
Wispy memories.
Separated by the miles
Wrapped myself in shawl of self
Duel pain unshared.
Silent years.
Late night laughter
Stores and restaurants and icy parking lots
Pancakes and pavilions.
Treasured times.
My sister.
My best friend.
Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King
Awww… sniff, sniff… Thanks, Sissy! You're the best! And, I'm so proud of you!
Great to have a sister for a best friend I'm sure…so often the familiarity breeds much contempt. So nice to see a place where family triumphs in love…
Love that late night laughter too…mom and dad didn't quite have the same affection for it back then, though:)
What treasure your few lines have revealed …
@The Lurker: Awww… sniff, sniff… Thanks, Sissy! You're the best! And, I'm so proud of you!
@Jeff: Light bulb thought! I'm 8 years older, and so it wasn't long before I was in my own little world. It strikes me that our antics as now 50- and 60-somethings might relate to making up lost time. Or maybe we've just never grown up. Even now our parents shake their heads.
@Susan: 🙂
Beautiful tribute.
Aw, I've always wanted a sister.
I love your poem.
Umm… that would be 10 years older — well, OK 9 and a half. That's twice this week. The Home awaits…
ACCCCKKKKK! Banging head on wall . . .
Wait. You're counting??
Aww…how sweet is that?! Happy birthday, "Sissy"! Hope you have a time celebrating!
"Pancakes and pavilions"
I like that part.
And I love that you wrote a poem for your sister. I know I cherish getting poems from people. 🙂