Glasses

Her face is small and her glasses are big. 

That was her first picture, Glasses.

She stared into my eyes 

and it was the first time

I knew someone. 

First she felt grumpy;

Like foil trying to stretch itself back out. 

She held me when she was small

and I was smaller. 

Then she started making words. 

She said lots of words

and drained her eyes on me. 

I wanted to cry but I didn't. 

I clasped my fingers to one of hers. 

I would hold her until she was big enough. 

She never was big enough. 

After I was walking but wasn't talking

I felt her scream from out in the garden. 

She didn't make any noise. 

I found her inside with the mother

and both were feeling things and hiding them. 

The father was missed. 

Always Glasses would read his letter aloud

until I started reading them to her. 

Then the papers stopped.

Their breaths dropped. 

I held onto Glasses. 

I saw the tears she stowed away. 

I dried them with small fingers wrapping. 

With my tiny head titled. 

Placating her soul with a scruffy haired sash.