my brother is off to school,
backpack over a shoulder
eyes glued to the phone in hand
white buds dangling from his ears.
he doesn’t turn when I wave,
his head bobs
and the only sound on the street
are his big floppy feet
slapping the pavement.
as he approaches corner
to cross the road alone,
my heart beats hard and fast.
i lean forward
to catch
grey hair poking from under a cap
jaw set, determined
all his fifty-five years.
it occurs to me
at 8:14 am,
he is two years younger,
twenty score stronger,
ten times braver,
than I will ever be.
Comments