sisters

I wonder what they will most remember
about the bedroom they shared on N street
Will it be the dim lights that hovered above their art desks
as they created stories 
and drawings on 
long, languid afternoons together
Will it be the limited closet space
that forced them to acquire a kind of gentleness
and patience
that most sisters do not hold 
Will it be the guttural rumble of the heater 
turning on during frigid winter nights
Will it be the stacks and stacks of books
read together on one tiny bed 
Will it be the patina of their hardwood floors
proof that many lives have grown 
and gone 
right from the very spot where they were growing 
Will they remember this room 
with a sort of fond ache in their bones
Their ancient palace
a sister sanctuary