Little Brother as a Best Friend

Growing up, my room was colorful with pinks and flowers as lights hanging on my wall.

My bed was a queen size bed, with flower sheets, flower pillows, and a little flower lamp by the bedside.

Pictures on the wall, everything organized but the drawers.

You open a drawer and there it is filled with so many colors

of papers, staplers, books, drawings, and so much more.

Old messy papers I had to play with for school.

Used to be the teacher and oh boy was I quite the character!

Next to the bedside there was a little table, with the lamp

and other things that I had.

Walk towards it and you find pictures, old memories that

faded away.

You see another door in the room, open it and there’s a bathroom.


Jack and Jill

In our bathroom little frogs displayed on the curtain, little

frog dispenser for the soap.

Even a lilypad tissue holder.

His lightning McQueen body wash so nice and neat on

the side of the tub.

My products laid there as well.

Continue on and you see another room. It was my brothers room.  


My baby brother had a cars bed, the color red, little stuff animals left there, his toys everywhere.

His room looked like a middle school locker room, smell of innocence and fear.

Clothes everywhere and his little toy cars, engines, books,

and so much more.

His little clothes smelling like a little brown teddy bear.

Little hands and feet, with little nose and little mouth,

his body so little and cute.

The touch of his hands are so soft like a babies skin.

Every night he wouldn’t want to sleep alone he would

come into my room.

Crawl in my bed, laying his little head against my shoulder.

Holding his little hand in mine, little fingers wrapped

around my small hands.

I feel the energy he always seemed to have.

Stroking his head with my hand while he talks to me about his day.

Telling me about school and what he learned, learning to

read and write, even count to 10.

His little fingers counting to:

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 ,9, 10.

Voice so soft almost like an angel.

Slowly drifting to sleep, my little angel.

My little brother, my best friend.

Those nights, will forever stay in my memory.


Later, people would argue.

Things got rough and he would come in more.

This time little tears stream down his face.

Wiping the tears from his eyes and try and stop the noise for him to hear.

The loud voices get louder and so many bullets flying through the air, almost like a little toy gun.

The harshness in the voices makes him scared.

His hands are bigger now, a little taller, voice a little more grown.

Still coming to sleep with me, laying by my side.

Trying to get his mind off to sleep, dream his dreams.

I remember one night specifically,

He was sleeping and I was awake.

Must’ve had a funny dream, he was laughing, then..

All of a sudden crying..

How could that be? I thought to myself


Tears streaming down his face.

I wonder what’s going on in the little mind of his.

I comfort him and it’s like he knows I am there.

Coos and Awes in a soft voice.  
A smile across my face as he cuddles into my side.

The little body isn’t so little anymore.

We became really close, my brother and I.

Growing up we would do these things to make memories.

He taller than me now, almost in high school.

Isn’t that crazy?

He has so much potential.

Getting straight A’s in school, standing up for what he believes in.

Nothing will ever bother him.

If anyone does, his “big” sister will be there to help protect him.

When a girl breaks his heart his sister will be the shoulder he can cry on.

He’s growing up now and oh god does it terrify me.

It’s his time to spread his wings and fly.

This time I know I am his best friend as he is mine.

To think 6-7 years ago we were in that house, him coming to sleep with me.

Or us arguing about the stupid little things.

Now we are best friends, and our relationship is stronger than it will ever be.

Waking up riding the bus together, coming home to play school.

Our friends next door would come and we would do experiments to see what we could get away with.  

Going to the movies, the park, exploring the little playhouse behind our home.

We have so many memories together that could never be forgotten.

His little hands, little feet, little body with his soul to keep.

His smile and his messy room will forever stay in my memory.



This poem is about: 
My family


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