by Andrea, Age 9
In the dark a gentle mist glides along my fingertips
A horrifying thought drifts through my head, will I ever get to see her again?
Sometimes I feel quite alone, waiting for that call on the telephone
Fifty minutes have passed, is she going to last?
I sometimes feel like crying, but I think and know she would not want me to do so.
So I sit on my bed alone, watered eyes and bright red face, trying to keep on my pace
But if I cannot, my heart will race, leaving cold water to drip down my face.
Suddenly I fall asleep, drift into a horrible dream
Daring soldiers fighting crime, trying to protect her from the pain
I see a small tear roll down her face, then I wake up in horror and run to my grandmother...
She tries to tell me "It was all a dream. Your sister's safe, in a hospital that's warm and safe and does not allow pain."
