Blood does not make a sister.
She could be in a different room, and I would miss her.
It's true. We fight.
But we always end up making up and laughing all night.
I remember us in our younger days.
Free-spirited, and beautiful in so many ways.
I remember tea-parties and dress-up.
Barbie dolls and makeup.
I remember crying on her shoulders,
and climbing sand mounds like they were boulders.
I remember sneaking candy at night, and gazing at guys when they walked by.
I remember picking at our brother and competing for attention from out mother.
We had lots of fun times
singnig songs in the car and laying in the grass searching for shooting stars.
We were princesses when we were little, and we still be when we're old and brittle.
At the end of the tunnel, that light shining so bright, isn't a train.
It's your sister with a flashlight.
You may not know it now,
but before you put her down,
maybe you should give up your crown.
She will be there till World's End.
My sister, my friend.
She's the notes to my chords.
I love that little girl. :)