June 16th, 2004.
I am not yet talking
and my brother never stops.
He babbles on and on,
telling me stories and teaching me.
I listen to every word.
The clock has started ticking
but neither of us hears it.

June 16th, 2009.
My brother and I
play in the backyard–
the swing set and the trampoline
become our castles.
Gateways to a world
where only we can go.
The clock still ticks,
but not in our world.

June 16th, 2014.
Summer break has begun
and we both sleep in late,
wasting time we’ll wish 
we had cherished one day.
We skip breakfast and go 
straight to lunch.
He makes us PB&J
(That’s all he can make)
and it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
I know of the clock now,
and wonder if he does too.

June 16th, 2019.
We do our own things.
I go to a party.
He works on a project.
That night we stay up talking
about anything that’s not the clock.
We’ve both heard it 
for a while now.

June 16th, 2020.
The world shuts down
and sticks us together.
We bicker and tire of each other
and I am secretly thankful
for the little bit of time
that has been added to the clock.

June 16th, 2022.
We don’t see each other much anymore,
except on holiday breaks that don’t quite align
and through meaningless texts 
exchanged every other week.
The clock’s ticking faster
and I understand why.

June 16th, 2023.
I don’t remember what we did.
I don’t remember what we said.
I don’t know if we even spent it together.
I think we would have
if we had known it was our last one.

June 16th, 2024.
My brother packs up the minvan
our Mom drove when we were kids.
The seats where we sat and fought
are now occupied by moving boxes
and memories.
He gives me a loose hug
and I toss him a casual goodbye
and we both pretend things are normal.
He drives away and I don’t wave.
Twenty June 16ths together have passed
and the clock has hit zero.

June 17th, 2024.
The world’s much quieter
in many ways.
I’ll see him next week
but never quite the same.
We’ve used up our late nights,
our family dinners and car rides,
our bickering, our banter.
Our nights under one roof
have run out
and I can’t believe 
we ever thought
that we had time. 

The clock stands silent and still,
but remains.
A constant reminder
of what’s run out.