The NY Literary Magazine

A Distinguished Selection of the Finest Modern Literature

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sad memories poems

Sister Blue by Brenda Davis Harsham

Brother new, sister blue, I miss you.
Both lost at age four. Pain is evermore.

Is it wrong that I still long to belong?
To share every care and touch your hair?

To pillow fight, fly a kite, hold me tight,
whisper secrets in the dark, swing in the park?

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