Wish I could find the poem I wrote about you and your sister that had you running ahead of me, out of sight, because that’s what it feels like.  You’re leaving.  Been pushing me out for some time now.  Don’t get to be maudlin, so many times I’ve leveled my temper at you.  Just wanted to help, but I shouldn’t. Get to making your own mistakes.  But here I go anyway.   Don’t try to act like you know everything; it’ll get you in trouble.  Listen to people who know more than you.  Don’t be a stranger; I’ll still want to help.

fading light of dusk,
trying to catch every
ray before it’s gone.