She got her brother his own bag,
of assorted chocolate truffles.
He opened those that Christmas day.

“So you won’t sneak into my room
anymore and take mine.”

“You take dese ones, the boo wappers.”
They both smiled at his largesse.

She left him that following year
for college, while he stayed behind.

And when mom and pop passed away,
they saw each other less and less,
except here and there, now and then.

And when he leaves, she finds small gifts,
tucked in odd corners: nonpareils,
cherries and bittersweet sandies.


© Carlos Chagall, 2013