I Love You

I Love You
I love the fact that you’ll blush from this praise—you’re doing it right now!—and show your humility.

I love the way you’ll curl up on Grandfather’s Persian rugs, trailing your fingers though the blue and red fluff, just thinking.

I love the way you share, offering out pencils or bruised clementine to everyone around you.

I love how you cry, not secret or loud but there, letting it center you.

I love the way you walk, shifting your weight from toe to heel instead of how most people do.

I love your definition of breakfast, which includes last night’s popcorn and spoonfuls of peanut butter.

I love how your hair moves, fluffy, curly corkscrews bounding like springs.

I love your handstands, the arc of your spine pulled straight by strong muscles.

I love how you think, going at everything from fresh angles.

I love your smiles, a little hint at the corner I have to watch for to spot.

I love your ears, your birthstone stud earrings and the fact you actually listen.

I love your watching, careful eyes, guarding over me, even though I should be the one guarding you from the world.

I love you, little sister.

A Disclaimer
I do not have a sister. Do not attack me.