Janet Rattay


Little red dresses with white roses and lace
Memories of childhood that time can’t erase

My sister Mary, a few years older
Me being younger, a little bit bolder
Dressed up for an Easter of long ago
With our hair parted, curled, finished off with a bow.

All that day we walked up and down the street
White patent leather shoes without a scuff on our feet
The dresses made us happy, plain to see
We skipped and twirled just her and me.

My sister and I under a cloudless sky
Now I think back how the years sped by
We’ve outgrown those little red dresses
But never the treasures a sister blesses.