Sisters

Her dreams are red,

Loud as a steam engine,

Sharp as the blade of a rudder.

Mine are cherry morsels

Savored quietly,

Stems tied into a

Graceful knot.

She grasps for constellations—

A lion-hearted dreamer.

Soon she will be mingling among

Red carnations in Spain,

Lifting tappas to her tongue.

I’ll be watching the night sky
From our front porch,

Sitting in the echoes

Of our childhood home,
Strumming songs about tomorrow.

Am I grown up now?

Bending over a child's desk

Like a willow tree.
But haven't I always?

How eagerly I make myself into a shelter
For the ones I love.

Sister, how your feet itch

To wander!
You beautiful, red bird.

And I’ll travel many miles

In a few tiny steps.

How our same bones,

Same blood,

Love the world so intensely!

Me- the whisper

You- the roar.