Remember the doll you made me,

her tiny, bendable limbs,

her auburn, embroidery-floss hair?

And that marvelous cape?

Remember the calligraphy you penned

and framed to spur me on in my writing?

Remember that first taste of shared freedom

when I visited you at college,

and you showed me the spot

where the warmth came up the sidewalk,

and another where a poet riffed on the stars.

We talked until you were hoarse.

May we never forget

our latest rain-drenched adventure

where we soaked to the skin in the woods

and I finally ruined my dress shoes.

I love how we fall, sometimes, into

singularly satisfying conversations–

explorations of ideas,

musings over an infinite map.

 

The gift of you as my sister, my dear,

is inestimable–a thing beyond achievement or price.