letter to my brother (i’m not a poet)

dear brother,

can it be that it was all so simple

back to when we laid

awake together in our sleeping bags?

like the little ones who always spy,

it was on the floor in the back room that on christmas eve

as we watched mommy and daddy take our gifts downstairs that

our fantasies about Santa truly died.

we created Christmas morning at 3am but were told to go back to bed at 6

but those three hours together were ours, and

ours alone. together.

can it be that it was all so simple

when we performed “summertime” in the living room

you rapping the fresh prince/will smith rhymes

and me singing the hook




that summer of ’92?

can it be that it was all so simple

when we went from door to door together

knocking for friends down the concrete city driveway

dodging the cars?

the group taking on meaning as it grew

it’s not so simple now

so close in years but separated by lives lived choices made consequences suffered

but my brother you are always the most loved if not always

the most understood

simply because you and i are siblings and no one else

and i like the person you’ve become.

2 thoughts on “letter to my brother (i’m not a poet)

  1. I enjoyed reading letter to my brother. It took me back to when my sister and I would sit together in the dark waiting for Christmas morning. We would make up stories and in our minds travel to far distant lands. Keep up the good work


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