Memories of a Forgotten Sister

 I hollered, “You’ll catch your death!”

You cried, “Who cares?” like some whippet,

Dashing through them cotton fields with your hair wild.

I followed behind, like I do.

I pretend to be angry when you laugh at me, but

I’m always kind of pleased to amuse you.

Sometimes when you’re scrubbing by the sink and I pass by, you shout,

“Wash your face!” and flick water in my eyes so quick I freeze (and kick your leg and run away).