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…”