Tuesday, March 3, 2015

A Loving Brother in Memory of His Sister

If you read and like this leave me a note. . . Especially if we're old friends.

A Loving Brother in Memory of His Sister
HSC to SBC
by Peter T. Atkinson, H-SC '00

Midway through my life she came,
A sister by another name,
But many ways she was the same,
And she grew strong beside me.
Off the road into the wood,
On a hill she stately stood,
And to the connection we understood,
I ask her muse to guide me.

For there, sweet Foxes found their way,
And with them did my Tigers play,
From humid August to milder May,
In every kind of weather.
And in that tender age of life,
Before the world of work and strife,
Did name them off husband and wife,
More than time they spent together.

And though the time was always fleeting,
With each attacking then retreating,
Somehow each other were completing,
More than they ever knew.
'Cause time spent in their younger years,
Free from worry and free from fears,
(Or maybe just from too many beers),
Their relationships grew true.

And when they let their remembering minds,
Look back on all those simpler times,
And think back on those tender binds,
They thought would always last.
They find abounding there so deep,
The promises they break and keep,
Those nights where they did hardly sleep,
All disappeared so fast.

The boathouse, bistro, and the dell,
The times they rang the Tiger's bell,
The many secrets they'll never tell,
Are always lingering there.
Sneaking out, staggering in,
Wondering how many shots it's been,
Sisters strong through thick and thin,
Are all stories that they share.

There were also books and sometimes class,
And reading poetry out on the grass,
That final exam that kicked their ass,
And almost broke their spirit.
But still the Vixen learns and knows,
She more than other women shows,
For she's the one who earned the rose,
And so she'll proudly bear it.

But from across the way I hear,
The truth that now is all too clear,
Confirming that once distant fear,
My sister will soon be gone.
And so I sadly say, "Hear, Hear,"
And offer another toast of cheer,
Chasing champagne with cheap light beer,
Holding back each stubborn tear,
Wishing one rhyme could bring just one more year,
And hope on hope we'd pray sincere,
That she would never disappear,
That more girls would enroll here,
That one more check would somehow clear,
But much as I try to persevere,
The rhymes get off, a little weird,
And then now our hope has gone.

And though we have to say goodbye,
We will always wonder why,
We couldn't give just one more try,
And save our sister's place.
But we must lay our sis to rest,
Adorned in pearls and sunny dressed,
A broken heart lodged in our breast,
But a smile lights up our face.

For all those memories remain,
Beyond the hurt beyond the pain,
We'll sing that old and true refrain,
Before it finally ends:
And though we don't always approve,
Time is always on the move,
Though it's not rhyme, but still it's love,

For not even this can break up friends.