I know I promised but

I know I promised but…

When last we spoke over the phone

I told you of my small success at poetry.

You cried “Don’t write one about me”.

I promised that I wouldn’t  …..But I lie.

Half written poems foment in my mind

Never quite finished they whirl around

Waiting for a time when I shall find,

Space and courage, to write them down.

It would be and easy trap to fall into the maudlin,

To speak of a sloppy, lovely dovey past that one expects

Of sisters who are seen as close and loving.

That would be our love, slightly, out of context.

The caring and the sharing are there, deeply held,

But that is not the measure that we are bound by.

We share memories, tears and secrets only we can tell,

And tell with laughter that lets us cry.

Others, listening in, wonder, at our strange humor.

Questioned, we answer, truthfully, exposing our contradiction,

And tell them of our painful joys, the family demeanor.

“You have to laugh” we say, “to save the situation’.

No-one understands, ever comprehends,

The black, the off beat, sarcastic banter,

A few see it as a shield upheld

To protect our devious and fragile character.

But only you, my darling one, knows

It is a fortress, a cubby house, a game

That children play, to keep the monsters

Under the bed, to lighten a darkened room,

It is not a place we fear,

It is our security and comfort,

For in our bittersweet laughter

We are complete.