Respite.

Sister.

Sister.

Sister.

My Sister.

Please.

Come to me, please.

Attach The Leash, to my

padded leather collar,

please,

take me for a walk in the park.

I want to partake, of,

your austerity.

I want to partake, of,

your serene beauty.

I want to feel the delicate warmth of,

your hand upon my cheeks.

I want to hear

the soothing sound of,

your gentle voice.

I am so coarse, so coarse

around the edges.

Sister.

I want to sit with You,

on the large hardwood bench,

from rusty chain suspended, swinging

on the expansive, wrap-around porch,

torrential spring downpour,

descends.

Upon our land,

beautiful land.

Rusty chain suspends.

I want to sit beside You,

on the large swinging bench,

torrential spring rain

cascades,

downward,

in sheets.

all else is quiet,

rusty chain suspends.

I want to feel,

the delicate warmth

of your articulate hands,

as they shall wrap around mine.

I am so raspy, and so coarse,

so coarse around the edges.

Want to feel in my palms,

the knap

of The Leash Handle,

that You still hold,

still hold in your hand.

There we sit

on the swinging bench.

Blindfolded,

mist of afternoon spring against

my cheeks half covered.

Silhouetto of today resigns,

back leans against

rusty chain supports,

wooden slats,

torrential downpour of spring,

upon which rest, legs extended to the other end.

Back-rest,

relinquished domain,

aligned,

your delicate shoulders, and

your

smooth,

warm

thighs,

intertwine, with my legs thus extended,

feet,

shins hang lazily,

over contoured crest of wood.

Spring downpour descends.

Advancing rain.

this torrential downpour.

Silence, cast aside,

upon which

rusty chain suspends.

Sister.

I feel the gentle tug

of The Leash,

as You nudge slightly closer to me.

Closer and closer,

ever closer still.

Faint creak upon wooden slats

rusty chains,

aging hardwood bench,

as You nudge ever closer,

rest your back against my

shoulder and torso.

Another gentle tug.

Warm sensation in my palms.

Your delicate hands wrapped,

around mine.

This warmth,

another series, of gentle tugs.

Like a feather

against my left forearm.

Gasping,

a cry for help,

heavy breathing.

My hands,

shaking. and quivering.

Uncontrollable sobbing.

Hand so softly caresses,

my left forearm.

This burning sting,

a silent cry for help.

Bandanna thus wet,

from which tears flow,

salty tinge upon my cheeks.

So coarse, and so rough,

so coarse around the edges.

Just a number,

on the wall.

Scarred and branded.

Six-digit serial tattoo,

upon left forearm.

Seven.

Two.

Nine.

Six.

Three.

Seven.

Tears.

Tears.

A silent cry, for help.

This crushing, burning sting.

A slow and tender, nip,

on my left ear lobe.

"I Love You."

A kind, forgiving whisper.

And yet another.

"I Love You."

The steady trickles, on my cheeks.

So coarse. so rough,

so coarse around the edges.

This brand,

stinging burn

can not bear to shoulder.

I am just a number.

"I Love You."

The soothing sound,

of your voice.

"I Love You."

Echoes.

Reverberates,

torrential downpour of spring.

Heavy breathing.

Slow and heavy.

Tension of The Leash goes limp,

floats like a feather into my lap.

Your delicate hands.

Your flowing straight hair,

cascades downward

over my shoulder,

like the rainwater that

overflows the gutters,

and cascades over the

awning of the porch.

Floodgates are open.

Shaking hands subsided.

A crisp trickling.

Chirping

of the birds.

Spring breeze meanders.

Chattering of the squirrels.

Hardwood bench remains,

resigned but steadfast.

Aftermath.

Spring renewal.

Sister sleeps now,

back rests against my torso,

head upon my shoulders.

Sleeping.

Her hands rest limply in her lap,

my arms wrap around her form,

and in my palms rest my own.

Sister.

She is sleeping.

Her flowing straight hair, whips, and dances,

in the crisp spring breeze.

The faint creak, of the bench.

Chirping.

Breathing.

Rhythmic breathing.

Slow.

And rhythmic.

Sister sleeps now,

In my arms.

The cotton hood of my jacket covers my head, and

the drawstrings putter,

light as a feather in the breeze.

I lean my head to the left,

resting now, against the back slats,

of the bench.

Hood shields my eyes,

from the late afternoon sunlight.

I close my eyes,

and I submit, to sleep.

Creaking.

Chirping.

Rustling.

I am free, sister.

I am free.

I am free.

++++++++++

Sister.

Sister.

Sister.

My Sister.

My Beloved Sister.

You are so immeasurably beautiful,

in so many ways.

Oh, how I wish for You

to attach The Leash to my padded collar,

to take me for a walk in the park,

so that we may both be as free

as the birds.

Oh, how I wish to hold You

in my arms,

as we shall rest and submit

to a late afternoon slumber,

on the porch-side, suspended, hardwood bench.

To feel the slow, rhythmic ebb, of your breathing,

as I shall hold You in my arms.

so that we may never grow distant.

adoration. rejuvenation. and affection.

Sister.