IN FIVE Chapter 1: imperfect kids
We shared a room, a bed, a sky,
A thousand stars, a single cry.
We were thunder under sky…
Imperfect kids just you and I.
You’d tug my sleeve and yell, “Let’s race!”
Always late, always first place.
The world was a garden, reckless bloom,
We carved our names in sunlit gloom.
You stole my food, I stole your coat,
We learned to swim, we learned to float.
We’d race the wind barefoot through dawn,
And I promised you, I’d never be gone.
You said, “if we die let it be in June.”
I laughed, “in may, we’ll only dream too soon.”
You’d always shout, “Stay with me, five more!”
Each time I rose to leave the floor.
You were the storm, the dare, the gleam.
My little brother, my reckless dream.
“I promise you,” you’d pout at night,
“If you go first, i’ll hold you tight.
And if I go…” your voice went still,
“You’ll meet me in five. You always will.”
I swore it then, hand over chest.
A pinky promise. Nothing more. Nothing less.
But seasons change, and trees turn gray.
And swings fall still. And games decay.
Original poem by me. Nara.
