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You sheepishly smile
And produce a stained jacket
Sometimes I just wonder
if all the people in the world
Can be careless as you.

But you can sing like you would
ask for the stars to descend
and drop down like fairy dust.
You like curls and you do them
In papers like that Victorian girl.

All that is a distant memory
Buried six feet under
The grass you once walked on,
The ground, when wet you once used to
throw mud at me
Just because I wasn't paying attention.

And I'd give everything just to see you
Put a stain on my camel's hair jacket.

All over again.
©2007-2009 ~firedupmaven
:iconfiredupmaven:

Author's Comments

I know this will sound so...I don't know...but you won't know what you've got till it's gone.

This poem is written in the point of view of a "big sister" who wishes she can turn back time after her sister dies.

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August 6, 2007
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