January 4th, 2007

I turned ten two days ago, I blew out the candles with a heavy sigh. You were born today, Still. Your lips inherited The reddest hue of cardinal feathers, Your rice paper skin Pale and soft, fresh as silken snow. I never knew what your eyes looked like They never opened Infinite iris colors Never to be discovered When I held you in my arms, The guiding hand of God drifted away I gave the coldest of shoulders I suppose. I looked outside the hospital window, A frigid breeze made The trees sway with unease But all the leaves stayed in place. A confetti of dust drifted In the air conditioned hospital room And time yet stood still On my brother's only birthday.