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Ball, Brother, and Bottle

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Bouncing a ball, I was, not a care in the world,
All the while I spun this way and that, twirled.
A smile ruled my face, one baby tooth short,
Lost in the perils of playful sport.

But no matter. Life was an endless sunrise for me,
With little to no frustrating fees.
Eat, sleep and play were all so satisfying, especially play,
Play, play, sometimes even with my baby brother. Play, until in bed, I lay.
Yes, nothing could have possibly put me out of my ever-clinging joy.

Yet… yet something was amiss.
An intruder had entered my dome of happiness.
Whatever it was stole away my bliss,
And replaced it with nervousness,
A sinking feeling down to the bottom of my stomach.
I dropped the ball, and listened – to silence, not even a snick.
Silence was something scarcely heard in my household,
Ever since my little brother had been born, bold.
So why then, this absence of laughter, gurgles, and cries?
Nothing could ruin my sunshine; “It is nothing,” I told myself. Lies.

Finally, I forgot about the ball, forgot about childish pastimes.
I had realized something… that life is not just straight lines.
There are bumps, crooks and crannies, where criminals may lurk.
Though I truly doubted it was a true criminal, await with a dirk,
My instincts did their best to tell me otherwise,
Insisting that my brother was meeting his untimely demise.

A sense of urgency overcame me as I rushed around the house, searching,
Living room? No, just my cat, atop the couch, perching.
Storage room? No, just a clutter of items both lost and found.
Kitchen? No… wait… was that a sound?
A gurgle, a slurp, a giggle? Was that what I did hear?
Could he possibly be hidden in here?
Frantically I scoured the scene with my eyes,
Hoping to get a glimpse of my brother, puny in size.

My search did not disappoint me, as sitting there on the floor,
Was my baby brother – search I need not more.
Yet why then, did my instincts tell me,
My brother was no longer to be?

And then I saw it – a bottle, made of glass,
Filled with a liquid, the colour of grass.
Evidently, its origin had been from under the sink –
My brother had just closed the cupboard door, with a clink.
Determined as he was, he set about prying off the lid.
Quickly, it popped off and my brother was rid,
Of his last remaining obstacle between him,
And what may well turn his bright life dim.

I rushed forward, and from his hands, snatched the vile stuff.
My brother laughed and clapped, as if it was all a bluff;
A test, a challenge, an examination of my wits.
Mom appeared, back from the washroom, hair in a fritz.
Smiling, she bent down to pick up her beloved baby.
Saying nothing, my mind wandered back to normal – play time maybe?
Yes, it was play time indeed; I returned to my ball.

As if nothing had happened at all.




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