Wishful eyes

filled with hope and pride.

I look down at the blur of shapes and colors,

and the messy scrawl at the top.

Beauty is in the eye

of the beholder

and,

through a lens of love

your stick figures are magnificent.

They have the elegance of Monet’s water lilies

and the radiance of Starry Night.

I hang the picture on your door.

It’s a 93 square inch reminder of your talent.

Waving goodbye as you walk to school,

I stop to admire

the trail of confidence you left behind.

Waving hello as you walk home from school,

I watch tears roll off your cheeks.

During recess you and your friends

drew pictures.

Compared to their semi-realistic unicorns

your scribbles are nothing.

Anger surges within me and

my insides churn

Don’t they know that simply

holding a pencil

is an accomplishment,

and that spelling words is

a challenge, but

every day you try a little harder

and now it’s easier.

You stop crying

and I see it now.

The scrap on your knee.

No wonder you were sad.

Relief floods my mind as I realize

you didn’t even notice

your classmates giggles

or whispers.

Confidence in tow,

you stand up and go off

in search of Band-Aid.

Ignorance is bliss,

and the world you live in

is so much brighter than mine.

Safe for another day.

Grateful that you are shielded from pain.

Happy you are my sister.