Wednesday, October 26, 2011


My name is little sister,
I am who I've become.
I am the little someone
that when you call, will come.

I am not artistic;
my sister is the one
that writes with words and rhythm
and does all this for fun.

She is the one remembered:
the recluse within the house,
The Belle of Amherst status,
the one with the white blouse.

I sit behind the corner,
I found her poetry,
and though I lived for her,
no one remembers me.