He was four and I was one.
One girl who cried and screamed.
Four years he'd had lived without me.
He was alive and I was a shadow.
He took the world and carried it with grace.
I only watched as it balanced in his palm.
He was growing and I was too.
Up up and up we flew.
Our ages were marked as tallies on the wall.
He was successful and I followed suit.
Successful as he conquered the years of books
Following without grace to spare.
He was ice and I was the flame.
Flame my hair became as if to reflect my insides
Ice,because what is heat without cold?
He and I were both at an end and a beginning.
The end of chapters in our lives
But the beginning of so much more.
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