Baby’s wail, crisp march dawn, sister Jay born,
a glowing treasure dawned that wondrous day,
since then our firm rapport has weathered storms
In depth, laughter, tears, how we faced wild storms,
sensing one and others needs truly born,
joint life journey, each true heaven scent day.
wry slant on sibling antics, close of day,
Jay bosom spar in sun, rain, wicked storms,
on recall, peak chapters in concert born
My homage born for each rapt day, Jay, you oust storms
My sister is
like a twister.
She turns around
to avoid hitting the ground.
She is happy
and avoids being slappy.
She keeps being nice,
so there isn't any price.
She will
She will fight
She will get through it
I know she will.
You're my partner in crime,
always there to make me laugh .
We'd always play and make fun of teacher's fits.
You're the catch up on my fries,
the ice to my cream,
the cheese to my macaroni
and the possible to the impossible.
The one who keeps me sane,
who laughs at my jokes even when they're lame.
You're there everytime I need ya,
always here to give me a hug when I'm feeling blue.
You're a glue that keeps our friendship tight.
We're like two peas in a pod,
except the other one's a bit crazy,
that's you of course.
You and I,the craziest duo there is.
Under the emerald sky, I stand as an oak, with my sister close by,
Our roots intertwine, bearing the weight of time's endless sky.
We hold the ground that in childhood dreams was a meadow,
Where laughter and tiny footsteps hid among the silent grass below.
Now, a resting field for cattle grazing lazily near,
Twin oaks we're called, by the road stretching to the horizon clear.
We still lift our branches toward the clouds that slowly roam,
Remaining unchanged in the eternal landscape, our steadfast home.
Though hurried passersby barely see us, caught in life's snare,
Time flows like a secret river through our ancient leaves' air,
Searching for golden treasures in life's labyrinth, hard to ensnare.
We, the oaks, silent witnesses to the world, find solace in our roots,
While memories shine like fireflies in the night that fades and uproots.
Lythe
Salvations droplets
My Elder Sisters Coven
Craven images devout plights
Nestled as high
Illusive runts
"I want you to diffuse
Christ's ******** Kevin"
Stain them
she still slams doors
like the world owes her rent,
still drinks the bottle
to the bottom,
still laughs at the blood on the floor
like it’s a carnival trick.
I kept thinking—
hell, maybe she’ll soften,
maybe she’ll learn
how to hold a hand
without drawing a knife.
but love doesn’t cure venom,
and I’m no doctor.
I’m just another fool
who tried to tame fire
and ended up burned.
A few feet away,
daisies and sunflowers bloom—
Maria's smile drifts
I see her walking
through woodwinds and blades of grass—
down to the seashore
Time stands ever still
in the sunshine of her life—
I miss Maria
I am excited.
A piece of candy.
Fell on the floor.
That has swirls.
But there is another piece.
In the bag.
Delicious.
The pizza guy is coming.
I thought I hated him.
But there is something about opening a door.
To someone.
But there is something about closing a door.
To stop the rain from coming in.
My sister is visiting.
I have pizza on the counter.
She put her umbrella in the corner.
She gave me a birthday gift.
The gift is perfect.
Yet feels empty.
My sister is like a stranger now.
I know her face very well.
Except her smile is different.
Older by just a bit.
Like a cake that was in the fridge for a bit too long.
And I regret forgetting about it.
She decided to stay overnight.
There was leftover pizza.
She doesn’t like green peppers like she used to.
I tried my best.
But I don’t think she liked how firm my pillows were.
I am sad.
A piece of candy.
Fell on the floor.
I was the last one after all.
I had never seen a more sensual witch
and I have been around covens since I was a babe
so it is not that I have no exposure
the energy of the room heightened upon her arrival
I immediately looked up from my tarot cards
recognizing a kindred force
she was magnificent
the quintessential sexy witch
with ginger hair and amber eyes
I need to speak with you, she told me
her voice was husky and alluring
I knew we had been sisters in another lifetime
I nodded in agreement
eager to finish my reading
so I could see what she wanted.
For my sister
Across the seas
where sun meets sky,
My thoughts of you
go flying high,
In foreign lands
where dreams reside,
My little sister,
with love and pride.
I miss your laughter,
bright and clear,
The way you bring
the world so near,
Your gentle heart,
your spirit free,
In every thought,
you’re here with me.
New adventures
call your name,
In places new,
your spirit’s flame,
Yet though we’re far,
my love remains,
A bond that distance
never strains.
I wonder how
your days unfold,
The stories new,
the tales untold,
If skies are blue
or nights are bright,
If you find peace
in every sight.
Remember when
the world seems vast,
Our childhood memories
hold fast,
In every step,
in every start,
You carry home
within your heart.
Though miles apart,
we stay entwined,
In whispered thoughts,
in heart and mind,
My little sister,
brave and true,
I’m always here,
supporting you.
So as you journey
far and wide,
Know love and pride
walk by your side,
For in my heart,
you always stay,
My sister dear,
come what may.
Written August 5, 2024
© Dr Upma A. Sharma
My sister wife is
An angel; she's supermom
And helpmate in faith.
My sister and I are as different
As spinach and blueberry pie,
Yet together we laugh,
Which reduces, by half,
All the ways our distinctions apply.
Even now, in New York for a visit,
Where the weather is brutally hot,
She, a Florida gal
From a schvitzy* locale,
Will insist that, to her, it is not.
Still, our blood and our family connect us,
Plus our faces wear similar smiles,
So our sisterly bond
Cuts through white hair and blond
And our spinach and blueberry styles.
*to schvitz means to sweat in Yiddish
My sister is a fussbudget
I am shocked.
Why do you call her that? I ask.
She worries about everything.
She is fussy about everything.
Like what? I asked.
She fusses over recipes, they have to be put in an order.
What kind of order?
She has them color coded and alphabetized.
Which one?
Both.
She fusses over a piece of lint on your shirt.
She can talk about it for weeks.
There was a piece of white lint on Leland’s shirt.
How can anyone talk about that for weeks?
I don’t know, she replied. Do I look like a fussbudget?
me
and my
sister look
similar really
but that is where
the mirror image ends
we are different in all ways
I am messy and she is so neat
she is conservative and I am lace
I like everything old and she likes new
we both like cats but her not as much
she dislikes make up but I fancy it
love my long hair she does not
cooking is for her a real joy
poetry writing is my thing
she likes to go on trips
I like it at home
two sisters
united in
love
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