Brother

At first it was small,

then it grew into a person that was you.

A pillow over the face, Magic taking flight,

some unremarkable days

and clutched-up nights.

The fights you used to manufacture with a stuffed elephant.  

Me kicking out, acting the witch.

You, who would never lie.

Somehow thirty years have gone by.

Pride and anger and love and frustration:

a repertoire that stretched from Devon to London
could never get the

way I feel about you spot-on.

In Torquay, you slashed the hair from my trolls.
I cut the wires of your toy and

we started fires when we became friends.
Later, a fist through a car window…
and other things. You worried them,
and you worried me.
Some flames are best left to burn out into embers,
but please remember not to revisit:
fighting is not the best way to pretend she's not gone.

You didn't know your own strength then.
You still don't.It’s strong to start again;

even more so a number of times.

You’ll always be fine, because you have the

best of those two and maybe a little of me.
Now show us that person we knew you would be all along.

Pierre and Mr Twit taught you to be clever and kind to others.  

I admire my brother.
 

He’s a friend, and that thing they brought home, in the end

might be okay.