Sisters
Even when she moved
five hundred miles away
telepathy was alive between them
and love as strong as ever
She sends in the post
pressed tulip petals
slivers of shell from the day at the beach
wrapped in tissue paper
She, a book of stories
golden earrings
and she, the painting of a windy day
the daffodil bowl
Even before the letter
saying, between the lines, ‘come’,
she is on her way
From Ophelia, © Elizabeth Burns
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