Old Guy Photography


The Old Guy … Sister …


I regret that I never met my sister,

Of so many forgotten years ago.

Her life a brief moment;

A wisp of wind that never got started,

With no footsteps left for me to follow.


What would she have said to me,

The brother she never knew?

Was there wisdom we could have shared,

Or special secrets just for us?


I regret that I never met my sister,

The simple touch of her hand.

What of her smile, I can only imagine;

Would her laughter light up the room?


So many years have passed,

Oh, what could have been.

Sweet sister of the past I never knew,

Pray tell know in your restful sleep,

Of a brother’s thoughts and love.



At the diner … Janet & Jeannie

Over the last while past, my Sweetheart and I have enjoyed brunches and coffee at the diner with her sister and brother-in-law. Despite husbands, children and the years of trials and tribulations life has given them, the two strong willed and gentle ladies have become close friends. I have enjoyed watching them together. Their laughter, mutual respect and love is infectious.

Seeing them together made me on more than one occasion think of the sister I never knew …

I can only surmise that my mother and father must have decided that they wouldn’t burden me with a tragedy so early in life. Unknown to myself, year after year the self-perpetuating unspoken became habit. It wasn’t until I was married with a child of my own that my mother told me of the sister I hadn’t known of . . .  At the time of the conversation, she was very sick and evidently thought she wasn’t going to survive her illness. As I stared at the certificate of live birth, I couldn’t believe it. I was the first male born to my parents but not the first born.


Sisters Enjoying The Diner …

Knowing of my sister did bring a few strange past occurrences into focus. Often when we would visit my grandmother, my parents would disappear for a hour or so. They would come back rather solemn and looking too weary to take another step.

My brothers and I did not know the gravity and significance of the hidden moments. They were secretive trips to the cemetery to spend time with the child they loved and missed terribly.

It was a mystery best not spoken of by my parents even in a whispered voice. For the longest time during my formative years, I thought we would be moving from Memphis to Jonesboro, Arkansas. I entertained the horrible thought they were house shopping during the unexplained absences.

I would imagine sharing the experiences of growing up is quite different with younger brothers as compared with having an older sister. In the quiet times of night or early morning, I often wonder about my sister. If she took after my mother, or our mother, my sister would have been statuesque, artistically talented in many disciplines, and strong willed. I could only speculate how she would view her ‘younger’ brother.

What would she think of me? I was considered a rebellious and stubborn youth, a black sheep, training for a life as a ne’er-do-well before suddenly going off to sea in the sixties . . .

Would her smile be intriguing or would a stern look melt my heart? Would we be close and share experiences and secrets? I just don’t know. Something tells me an older sister would demand respect, but at the same time . . . we would be spirited combatants in our early years and grow closer after a good seasoning of years from Father Time.

It is unfortunate I never knew my older sister. But she is not forgotten. She lives in the quiet moments of the day and early morning hours and I celebrate her short life With great love and joy.


So many years have passed,

Oh, what could have been.

Sweet sister of the past I never knew,

Pray tell know in your restful sleep,

Of a brother’s thoughts and love.

 The Poem ‘Sister’ First Published In . . .  By John E. Moss © 2009


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