Visiting Jessica

My sister is beneath a heavy weight of quiet sighs

as she sleeps under a pile of comforters, on a burgundy couch,

dreaming, I hope, of good things.

The radio plays so quietly near her,

the melodies are only a whisper of sound

from where I sit on the opposite side of the room.

The love seat radiates heat back toward me.

I’m sunken into its over-stuffed pillows,

It’s worn out because it offers coziness to anyone who stops to sink in.

Beneath my feet is the softness of an old Persian rug

filled with swirls of India’s colors copied not so long ago.

The deep greens and shades of tan, dance with

a bleached stain that blends well with the pattern.

Sleek and shiny black fur protrudes from under the top comforter.

My dog, Tai, loves my sister almost as much as I do.

He listens to each sigh she makes

with all that his 10 pounds of might can muster.

The deep brown of his bright eyes open,

concerned each time she skips a beat.

All the while, the clock behind me thuds out a rhythm to march to.

Time stops often here in my sister’s “living-den” as we call it.

The pottery in the window is Native American from various tribes.

The curtain's sheer lace belonging in a Victorian parlor

delicate as it waves in Springtime breeze

The various colors of Indian designs across the window sill

peek from behind the white curtains,

somehow blending with the Persian rug,

There are two swirling bentwood rockers that stare at each other,

The little black dog that thinks he’s Lassie,

The couch of sighs where my sister likes to sleep

And me.

© 2011 C. Harter Amos