she was like i was in the late hour, odd-talk
so much to say with tongues incapable of time travel
but she tried. . . she really did. . .

not a boy in the fort-house would deny her in
she came with knees scraped and a band-aid under her chin
she could arm-wrestle the wind
it’s where she came from, that we began

how he, him and me started to notice her

oh you, all with your all, don’t have a her
if you didn’t ‘get her’ then
in simple words
she made friends of enemies with no friends
she talled, blanket-tents at all sleepovers
if you were lucky
she hugged you before adulthood...

if you are lost
you grew up without her and long after the last time
she kissed your face



(Written for our 70's foster-sis, Deb P.)

© Gerry Mattia 2024
© “Patio Poetry” 2000 - 2024