Playtime

My shadow engulfs hers while we run through the yard

As we play a game in which she is the princess and I am her guard.

We seek adventure, up high and down low.

My sister, younger by three, does whatever she's told.

"I want to be as brave as you are," she says, chipper than ever.

I tell her to run and run, no matter the weather.

Follow me and we'll create some fun times together.

So we roam and explore, we hoop and we holler

Having a good time without the use of a dollar.

Then we go off to a land, forgotten by most,

A place darker than ever, haunted by ghosts.

She says she's scared, more frightened than ever before.

She doesn't want to play anymore.

"Come on," I say. "Don't be such a bore."

But she doesn't want to play anymore.

She turns, uncertain of what's to come,

And her guttural instinct is to run.

Too fast she has gone, too far she has wandered.

I search, I shout, for no one else am I fonder.

My little sister, my pride, my joy,

Means so much more to me than just a toy.

I look around, but she is nowhere to be seen.

I feel hopeless.

What good is a guard without her queen?