Though she's ten years younger.
She's not like me,
Too fair haired, with a smaller forehead.
Darker eyes and a charm that only children have.
So bright, so smart.
Just as tall as her brother too! (well... almost.)
I assure you, go on, ask her.
She has logic that makes perfect sense.
With hands that will soon be too big,
are too big,
Too hold hands with old unwanted me.
So much bigger and shinier than everyone.
This sister of mine.
---
She's not my daughter, but still I feel like she is. A mother and a sister and a friend, my heart still swells when she reads. So perfect, stumbling less and less, till she's practically shouting. But no, it's... it's more like singing. I can only sit and think, maybe I was like her once.
