living in memory
Lori with hole in her heart—age three,
would run then need to squat—briefly.
Living at the end of our block—nearly,
and loved their little squatter—dearly.
Anxious early days open heart—surgery,
promise blossoms life beyond—nursery.
Skies hues of blues kissed pinkly—sister,
cherry-pitted hunkered hearts—miss her.