Wedding

We were five,

and she, seven.

Little skirts, teary eyed bus rides,

and the confusions

that kept us together

without choosing them.

You are now twenty five,

I'm five,

and she, twenty seven.

A beautiful thing,

look at you,

on your sister's wedding,

with the fort

you have built

which I stand inside,

unclothed,

and unruly,

realizing I should have built mine

long back.

There are no clothes

to be worn now,

and I'm surrounded in forts.