The party’s over
The bags are packed and by the door
Don’t you dare leave me, not again
You’re gone gone gone
I’ve loved you forever and back
You’ve been here since the beginning
I’ve not had to ask for your forgiveness
You understand what I’ve been through
A similar path, me and you
Lost in translation for others, it is true
I promised to tell a story
This I will do
Get back here!
Where have you gone?
Did I, your sister, say you could go?
Sadness sets in, but I refuse to let it take me.
It wasn’t my intension to let you get away so easily.
Back to life you and I must journey.
This vacation is killing me.
Puffy eyes, have I.
I’m acting pitifully.
Get over it, Aud!
This, my dear, reality.
Charished and effortless reactions had been lost with distance.
Now welcomed back in with monumental excess, as we familiarize once again.
So simple is life when they’re along for the ride, I’ve found my peaceful heart.
Looking into familiar eyes long over due, man just look at you.
I can’t get enough of sibling love and only a few more days have we.
Come along back to Texas with me, please?
We’ll change lives together, forever a team, you and me.
Counting the days, now it’s hours, it seems.
Coming to you, darlings, it’s no longer a dream.
Talk me through my travels, we’ll be just fine.
Not visions of sugar-plums, do I see.
Only me steamrolling you to the floor this Saturday eve.
Prepare, my loves, be waiting for me by the door.
Oh what joy! Christmas with siblings, I couldn’t ask for more.
Get ready, I’ll be searching your eyes. Are you okay?
No, I’m not, but I’ll be just fine.
Pull the reins of the beast that controls our time.
I’m yours and you are mine, this Christmas.
At the end of the day a brown mending basket and sewing kit sit next to the bed,
Buttons to sew and seams to stitch all in a neat pile, please fix this, they said.
When did Grandma Elsie’s patching duties submit themselves to Audrey?
Choosing to blink, now dreaming of ingredients to couple with yeast.
Yes, its possible, a modern woman working the flour, is it only me?
Will recipes materialize, should be better than the garbage we eat.
Slow progression to Great Grandma Elsie’s bakery, it seems.
I look in the mirror at this red curly, crazy hair.
I can’t help but see her familiar stare.
Who the heck is this person I see,
When did I