Sisters Rarely Speak of Their Affection

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Sisters rarely speak of their affection: More than brothers, do, of course, but less Than those sweet waves that break before expression, Feelings too routine to need confess. Romantic love has phases like the moon: Waxing, waning, full, and gone from sight. Sibling love is more a simple tune Hummed silent and unknowing day and night. But now I wish to sing out loud, and say All the things that daily I might hide, That you might see your inner grace my way, And share with me my gratitude and pride. Ah, sister! You will always have my love! This part of us the years shall not remove! Copyright: Nicholas Gordon