Long back, I could have never talked.
Barely gotten a word in, perhaps.
Two little girls, squabbling and yelling.
What a ruckus they made – but I listened.
I didn’t have much choice, eh?
Sisters in crime, backing each other up.
Building fairy tales out of barbie sets
And teaching fuzzy koalas to race cars.
Sharing secrets and sneaking snacks.
What a lovely din on a lucid day!
I could still sing though…
A lullaby as they smiled in their dreams.
Mussed-up hair and hands clasped tight.
Warm in the comfort of my arms,
United in bonds of sisterhood.
I wish I had spoken as they grew.
Asked them to cherish the past.
School and studies, alarms at ghastly hours.
Secrets turned to worries. Snacks turned to diets.
Adulthood dawning upon them.
I can talk all I want now, but…
There is no one to listen, no one to talk to.
My arms have been empty far too long.
I only hope they remember me at times,
As they talk within walls far beyond.
My room. I miss my room! And I miss it more remembering the times I spent with my sister. Wrote this as an impulsive response on behalf of my room’s walls to the prompt at dVerse Poetics – “If walls could talk…”