My brother left on a mission, so I wrote some poetry

The Curbside as I remember it

He was dressed in his black suit;
His silly smile jumping around his face -
Nervous? He said he wasn't,
Just talking about our cat and trying to lick my hand whenever it was near him -
My brother. Sitting in the backseat of the car as we pulled up to the MTC.
"Remember that lick for the next two years."
Shuttled up to the curbside, he got out
Pulled his bags from the back of the car
Hugged Mom; hugged Dad -
Then it was my turn:
He stood up on the curb -
Like a banner -
All six feet and six inches of him.
I was a step down, on the road
As I reached to wrap my arms around him,
He was so tall up on that curb that I pulled him down to the street with me.
We laughed, and I let go.
He turned around and walked,
Walking away from us, but toward -
A step toward Boston, MA
Where he would shape his heart a bit,
And write messy letters to tell me about it.

In the LDS church, young boys and girls leave on missions for two years. My brother is eighteen and he will be serving in Boston preaching the Gospel and helping people find the love, happiness, and peace only Christ can offer.

So then I wrote more poetry, just sloppy, right out of my mind, unedited poetry. This next one is about a friend.

crossing the waves
(chop, chop waves)
In my mind you are setting the table
for dinner and company
in your basement apartment
in September,
but really, where are you?
Get all this water out -
(chop, chop waves)
There's an ocean between us

And then just for sweet Sophie, a silly little verse because I miss her.

Sister's Sonnet replays in my thoughts.
What are you doing three hundred miles away?
She Lives for Hugs,
Lives on.

And then a little modified Haiku because I realized recently, I actually love this form.

I miss you because
I know you are really gone
But I love you like
I hope you'll come back to me.