My Sister

November 17, 2008
By Erin Kahn, Salem, OR

My sister’s hands are small and thin,
And soft as newly fallen snow.
They grasp two dolls who glide like swans,
Gracefully dancing on the floor.
My sister’s eyes are two bright stars,
Over a storm-tossed sea,
Guiding sailors beaten past hope,
Towards the reef of dreams.
Suddenly seeing me standing here,
The two little stars light up her face.
Holding out a doll to me,
My sister asks, “Do you want to play?”

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