Brother - Poem by Sara Stowell
We used to run, we used to play,
We’d play baseball every day.
We were close, way back then,
as I’d hoped it could be again.
But we grew up and went our ways,
and forgot about our younger days.
No more baseball in the park,
no more ghost stories in the dark.
We each have jobs, we have our wives,
as we live out our separate lives.
Sometimes I see him, with Christmas cheer,
when we get together one time each year.
But we don’t run, and we don’t play.
We don’t play baseball on that day.
We simply sit and shoot the breeze,
with emotion cold enough to freeze.
And so two strangers say their goodbyes,
One drives away the other flies.
Then comes a tear, and then another.
Another year to miss my brother.
Comments about Brother by Sara Stowell
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You