I promise to remember;
your laughs,
your cries,
favorites and dislikes,
your fashion
your heroes
and your rational.
But, mostly
that little voice
singing in the back seat.
Words far older
in meaning
and in age.
Stories beyond your years
and comprehension.
I promise to tell you
all, everything a memory allows
when you ask your questions
of the childhood forgotten,
when you’re my age.
Above all,
growing older
is a gift to others.
A perspective
and privilege
to watch
something so precious
grow and prosper
according to
yours, mine, and their
perspective of the world.
Sing baby brother
naively,
more wise than me,
innocent in every way,
and smile.
I only hope I’m looking at the world as well rounded for you, for me.
Learning to be
what we are supposed to be
both young and old
and true
as a big sister to you.
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