When we were little
you fell on the icy pond,
wouldn’t get up, crying.
My word, I won’t help you.
It pricks me even now,
the premonitory word,
now that I live in the far land
where everyone wants to go
yet I haven’t helped you
make your home near me.
I’ve mailed you an amethyst
bracelet, a token of my love.
Your response, balmy spring.
Sisterly love transcends
the amethyst bracelet, sweeter
than the aroma of lilac bloom.

©by Byung A. Fallgren