I know what it’s like to love a sister.
Joan—older than I, beautiful dancer
(ballet, jazz and tap)—couldn’t resist her
chance: Taught me the box step. I entranced her
with my poetry. She cherished me with
tones like yours for Janie in your blessed toast.
I cherished her dancing. She seemed a myth,
moving as one with music. How she’d coast
across the stage—like you on the dance floor
Saturday—with joy. You’d have liked her then.
Watching you dance that way made my heart soar,
just as your words made my psyche begin
to long for family: Warm nights after
supper. Gentle words of love and laughter.
Roger Armbrust
October 12, 2011
