Rash's Poetry House

Growing Pains

When I was four and you
were fourteen, you carried me
on your shoulder and played
with me and your dog
on the grass in the cool
Summer nights.
You allowed
me into your attic retreat
and taught me to operate
the train set
(I still love trains)
and you made promises.

I was the little sister
always at your heels,
the pet who was tolerated,
who flattered
your oh-so-grown-up ego.

Then, when I was fourteen,
almost grown enough to catch up,
you walked
into my birthday party
and announced
your engagement.


Johnny and Me on the front lawn

Poems in Family Album:

The Desk
An Unremarkable Woman
Growing Pains
Sometimes It Takes Decades to Say Love
Some People Just Cannot Nurture Growing Things
My Sister's Daughter

Return to Family Album

Picture of the books in Rash's Poetry House

Last updated

Created by TFMoose
TFMoose Web Design