The girl and the boy

She is tall and thin, talkative
and confident, her quieter
moments considered and aware;

he is tall and thin, quiet,
sits inside himself, observing
but saying little like he is
waiting for the right signal
not recognised yet.  Her words

are sometimes careful, mature.
Other times she squeals for
joy, exuberant, teasing.  Her

brother watches everything and
thinks, silently.  He has his
mother's face.  The girl looks a
young version of me, the family

gene passed on in blonde hair,
blue eyes, pale skin.  He is
hazel, sways dark like the
trees, brooding, waiting.  A

glimpse in the sun, brief
then gone.

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