Four chairs sit around the tea table:
Pink, mine. But I’m not a girly girl,
Never was. I just like dresses.
Green, for the spoiled one,
The one who towers over us, crying.
But she grew out of it.
Blue, for the oldest one,
The one who taught me everything important:
Magic, Pig Latin, how to let go of a friend.
Yellow, for the girl whose smile lit the world.
The shortest, the happiest, the kindest
Is the one who taught me grief.