(True Story)
I never met you,
While alive,
And never saw your face,
Until I saw your photograph,
Upon the mantlepiece,
Lying there, behind a clock,
I picked it up and brushed it off,
When I first saw your face and eyes,
I knew your life before you died,
I saw you once,
With second sight,
A shadow in my eye,
Standing by the stairs,
And watching,
As my life goes by,
I knew you from that photograph,
I felt your aura blister,
And flake away, there on that day,
My little baby sister.
Want to join the conversation? Sign in to leave a comment.