She was born when I was five
and she died when I was five.
I was too young to realize
what was going on.
All I understood was that
I was going to have a sister.
A foreign idea
but a fabulous one.
And then
she was gone.
Ten years later,
I don't remember much
except then when I was told
my sister wasn't coming home,
I ran into my parents' closet
and cried.
My parents have a box
filled with her memories.
It is in a cupboard
hidden away.
I do not know if they visit it
but I do.
There are letters
from people I do not even know
and pictures of her.
I never knew her
and I never will.
But she will always remain
my sister.