Sister, Sister

Some sort of sour stench seeps into my senses as I stroll across the sidewalk.
A split second -- my sixth sense smells something
seriously sinful
serenading through the streets.

Sister, Sister,
she sings, somewhere beside me.
She stops her sorry saunter and stares up at me, sad eyes beseeching me to
Steer her towards the restrooms, the pissoir.
I sniff, Sorry sis, and we press on.

Sister, Sister,
she screeches, somewhere beside me.
She grasps my shirt, seriously straining my patience so I
Stop strolling and scowl.
She sniffs, Sorry sis, and we press on.

Sister, Sister,
someone sobs, somewhere beside me, not my sister.
Some small miss, a stranger, sits on the sidewalk
Singing songs to herself.
She sways in sadness, stands, and serenades towards us

Sister, Sister,
she whispers.
She's skinny as a stick and grips a sign that says,
Searching for my Sister.

Some sort of sisterly love sparks in my soul
and I say sorry to my small sister for seeming so snappy. 
I serenade across the streets to the restrooms with my
Sister.

 

 

  

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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