Her Needlepoint

Brother,
life is a journey,
that took us through storms,
and tangled woods,
and dark places.
Remember our home,
warm and loving.
We built forts
out of pillows and bedsheets.
We pretended to be cowboys,
like the ones we watched in the local theater.
Italian western films with subtitles,
starring Giuliano Gemma,
an actor no one remembers.
But I remember his full lips
and dark eyes that drew me in.
I was the tag along baby sister,
that you dragged with you,
as you voiced your protest on deaf ears.
My eyes wide open,
to your mischief,
flirtations with girls
and nonsense talk with your friends,
attempting to keep your secrets.
A cigarette you used as a bribe,
to keep my mouth shut.
You explained french kissing at seven to me,
since I overheard you with your friends.
You lured me into playing cards,
and you won my allowance,
until I got wise.
Simple days,
childhood memories,
a lifetime ,
we have shared.
As we laid mom to rest next to dad,
we shared tears,
our heartbreak would leave scars on our soul.
Home, far away,
across the ocean.
Memories that will remain,
in our hearts,
in our veins,
in the canvas of the needlepoint,
mom stitched called life.


I have two brothers that I love. My older one is eleven years older than me, so we didn't get to share some early memories that I am sharing about my other brother. He is five years older than I am and this is a snapshot of some of our memories. Join us here http://dversepoets.com/ where we share our thoughts and our hearts. The photo above is of Giuliano Gemma, the Italian actor mentioned in this poem.