She was there,
waiting for me,
smiling at me
with open arms.
A gasp of surprise
held back by fear
of losing this dear
sweet sister of mine.

In just a few minutes
we were walking,
chatting, talking,
arms round each other.
She was mine
again;
the pain
vanished.

“You’ve grown!”
I say
and pray
that the size of her feet
aren’t the same
as mine.

They are.

“Switch shoes!”
She says—
her suggestion,
not mine.
Define
what happiness is.
That’s what we were—
I felt
divine.

“Girl, I’ve missed us,
our talks,
our laughs,
our fine photographs.”

My sister is back
from months
and months
of hurt
of pain;
she’s mine
once again.