23 August 2012
My sister.
This is where she had sat.
My sister.
Adjacent to the oak, so fat.
My sister.
Upon the wooden swing, she rested.
My sister.
'Our little flower,' we regularly jested.
My sister.
She'd swing in time to nature's tune.
My sister.
This was last year, in June.
My sister.
Sunlight seeped in through the trees.
My sister.
They're dotted with blossoming life, she sees.
My sister.
Soft rustlings I hear, she had heard.
My sister.
She swooped with grace of a small bird.
My sister.
A great push, sent her squealing in delight.
My sister.
Though in a flash it turned to one of fright.
My sister.
The entwined rope, unwound before her eyes.
My sister.
In the foliage, that's where my sister
Dies.
I miss her.
My Sister • Opuss № I