Blake Smith

Blue Eyes

If my little brother was a season,
he would be the spring.
 
Sometimes he is warm and sweet,
and sometimes he is a thunderstorm.
 
He can be like a little rain cloud,
one that I wish would go away.
 
But when he tries to,
he can effortlessly lighten any dark mood.
 
Behind his big blue eyes hides the knowledge
earned from twelve long years of mischief.
 
Trying to catch up with him is like
trying to find a patch of warm sunlight on a cloudy day.
 
He may be unappreciated at times,
but when I think that there is no hope of change,
 
my brother can be like the sun,
cheering me up after a long winter.



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