Pale skin and eyes closed with
red hair splayed on the pillow, a
fake smile plastered upon her lips,
and her stomach freshly swollen.
Memories behold,
my mothers laugh: a lost lullaby,
my mothers cry: a weeping rose,
all those held dear to my heart.
I watch as her body (devoid of warmth and life) is
lowered into the dry ground
and as my father hands off my
newborn sister to strangers,
a man with a top hat, and
a woman with a bonnet.
We were unable to
care for her, my little innocent sister,
a life without riches is a
life filled with pain.
