we sat together listening to "clair de lune" by Claude Debussy
just us too
nestled in a beautiful moment
and it panged inside me
the realization as she said, "i love this song"
that no matter how much I cared for this song too
nothing would stir me into ardent care as much as her--
nothing on this earth and beyond compared to the great veracity of loving my dear sister
"so do i." i replied softly, "but it makes me sad."
she "humphed"
"it's a good sad." i finished, "the kind of sad you want to have tea with."
yet little did she know that a portion of my sadness,
through no fault of her or my own
was because her heart was beating
so close to mine
and someday wouldn't.
-kiersten p. benson
