We sing it in to you both
like a mantra
a slogan of siblingdome,
from the early days when you ran
around together, blocks and babies
flung and clung to with equal measure.
We treasure every too-short moment,
when we aren’t reeling from the mack
-truck feeling of 2 under 2, diapers x2,
too much too soon, two
16 months apart (God’s timing, not ours.)
We mediate the wars of adolescence:
he’s doing this, and she’s bugging that
and it’s not fair! and I want! and Miiiiine!
We watch time tick all too fast,
younger sis heading to Jr. High at last.
Big brother walks her in, proud.
My heart in my ears, loud. Prayers for
soft hearts, thick skins, strong bodies,
sharp minds, and always, always
Brother and sister together, friends forever.
Never do I regret a single day.
But I do want a time machine.
High fives now, mostly. You’re too old to kiss
I beg for a time machine. Most days I miss:
Trains made of pink shelf bins
and tiny purses full of Legos.
Prompted by Poetic Asides.