The Day My Sister Was Born

This day.
Brown dress,
Plaid.
Brown hair,
Curled.
Sitting on a wooden stool,
Too high.
Dad sorting mail from
A leather bag.
He smiles.
I smile.
Eating dry Cheerios
from his coffee mug.

Written for Margo Roby’s Prompt: The Inner Child
http://margoroby.wordpress.com/2012/10/02/your-inner-child-at-tuesday-tryouts/

Author: Misky

‘Misky’ lives in the UK surrounded by flowers, freshly baked bread, and always keeps dog biscuits in her pocket for her blind Springer Spaniel. She never buys clothing without pockets. Her work is widely published.

3 thoughts on “The Day My Sister Was Born”

  1. I love this. I like the simplicity of the description and then the Ah! moment [yes, I said it aloud when I reached the last two lines]. Amazing, isn’t it, that so few words can evoke the feeling of a scene.

    m

    1. And I remember it like it was just a brief while ago. I think I can even remember how all those unsorted letters smelled, sort of dusty with a hint of cardboard.

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