When I call you
my little sister,
it means I’ve loved you
since the moment you
jaywalked into my life
chattering louder and longer
than all of the rest.
It means you’ve always had
at least two voices
during any battle against mom
and an occasionally great Uber driver
if you requested me before 8pm.
We may have came
from the same DNA
but it’s clear I was our parents’ first-draft;
while you are the final, printed version
bursting from the pages
wide-eyed and enthusiastic.
You my dear sister
have never walked in my shadow….
you wear glowing shoes
that I even borrow sometimes
and I wouldn’t want it any other way.