if i would've known you at the age of eight, i would've thrown words at your daddy to keep him home that night. i would've cast my scrawny arm up to save him; tossed aside my short life instead of his, to save him, and you. i wish now, ten years too late, that i'd have seen, known, what was happening that summer night, but i couldn't. i was playing tag instead. still, i want to throw one of those shiny, yellow rain slickers up in front of your face to protect you from the world and the scars on your brain that won't heal. still, if my silly ways annoy you, and you want, sometimes, to run back into hiding, just remember how we could've been as children, undaunted by trains and daddies and brothers who left us too soon. and, really, dear, it's all trivial, and we should just laugh and smile and dance to the drums still alive in our heads.
Reason for writing:
a salute to my brother, my fiance, and his father.
Birth sign: Not entered
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