My sister and I
somersaulted through strawberry fields.
Jumped on each other’s shoulders
to pluck the perfect apple down.
We swam across oceans,
and surfed on the backs of orcas.
My sister and I
danced the days away.
My mother and I
painted murals across the sky.
Taught birds
to imitate our calls.
We whispered to the flowers,
encouraged them until they sprouted.
My mother and I
had picnics in meadows.
My father and I
climbed onto the tallest branches.
Chased the rain from the monsoons
to the dry season.
We karate chopped our dinners
onto the plates,
and into our growling bellies.
My father and I
played every afternoon.
My family and I
traveled the seven seas.
Laughed until our tears
made dew for the grass.
We raced each other
across the savanna.
My family and I
were never apart.
