sister and brother....
that same pale skin...tight, dry...stretched across those high cheekbones
and
wide, lined foreheads.....those same black eyebrows, unruly, yet not as unruly as the blond hair that sprouted low on their foreheads......wiry, coarse, thick....lumps of curls in places where the wire was tamer and controlled itself....each had a widow's peak, low, well-defined.....
their temples, cheeks and jaws were amply covered in blond down.....
their light blue eyes had the same upturn at the outer corners.....eyes framed by dark lashes......
their noses, short, high-bridged, each with a small lump....a slight tilt upward at the tip, round nostrils, not small...not overly large.....
.their hands were alike... with good-sized-bones...strong and large-knuckled.... covered in that same dry, coarse, tight skin.....capable hands....
they lived over five hundred miles apart......
don't know why I'm thinking about them now.......
the mind's a funny thing.....I'm sitting here, writing this whatever-it-is.....
and
crying because Nat King Cole's dog was poisoned years and years and years ago..........I always cry about dogs...yours, mine...ones I hear about, read about.....
.don't know if I'd have tears for Tom and for Helen........
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem