A bouquet of flowers for my sister
Today I want to give you a bouquet of flowers
just to say how special you are and that I do care.
White roses to give you peace,
yellow roses for friendship
and lots of red roses for love
and I bind them all in a bow
made of hope and the will to live.
Born only eleven moths apart
we were more like twins than sisters.
You were my sister with long plaited hair
and brown freckled spots in your soulful eyes
and how I envied you and wanted to be
so much like you.
You were granny’s princess
and I felt like Cinderella before the ball.
How easy and effortless you made new friends
and was adored by everyone
everywhere that you went.
You were like honey and I more like the bee
but truth be told
you were fragile and sick
and sometimes so alone.
As a child I could not understand
why you did not play outside
and even on the sunniest days you were inside.
In the heart of a child I felt left out,
I wanted you to be my friend and my sister
more than anything.
The wheel of life kept on turning
and we were forced to live apart
and how cruel can it be
when children are separated by divorce.
Today, I want to say
that I really wanted to know you better
and I wish that I had the answers
and knew how to fix things that went wrong.
If I could turn back time
I would have liked to know you better.
In my heart you are more than just my sister,
you are my friend
and time does heal most wounds.
and sorrow has brought us closer
and this bouquet of loving flowers
are just for you.
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(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
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