She was

mini-bikes and butterflies,
cloudy days past starry skies,
coffee talk and herbal tea,
the yin who knew the yang of me.

My sister spoke of UFO's,
and dressed in vintage tie-dyed clothes.
Her alias was "coupon queen",
a hippie girl in faded jeans.

She was unique, without a doubt,
and we survived our in and outs,
but me and "daughter (number) three,"
enjoyed a common history

of Birmingham and Lincoln logs;
we rummaged creeks for pollywog's.
In kiddie pools, beneath the stars,
we'd float and drift on dreams afar

of bathing suits and halter tops;
from high dive boards we'd belly flop,
then giggle racing 'cross the sand
and climb the stairs to dive again.

Shared Barbie clothes and paper dolls,
bright crayon books and soccer balls,
filled makeup bags and curling wands,
all homage to a sister's bond

which celebrates two lives entwined,
a vow to love, transcending time.
Now happy tears are all I cry,
for sisters never say goodbye.


Sherry Pedersen-Thrasher


"A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost." Marion C. Garretty