My brother

He is the smile in every week, his absence

sparks a riot in my head, the back of him is 

the end of my day. Created from mirth is his

origin, ensconced in fun, jokes in abundance.   

Heightened expectation of things going his

way, the dearth of him is a depressant. Hidden

smirks emerge at will. A laugh that kills did in

sloth in my head, there is a lot in him to miss.   

Prickly picking my brains, freewheeling felines

chase up streets, finding fun. Summer comes

and with it his slight of hand, mirth, a maximum 

merriment, mayhem, days he comes all is fine.   

Everyone has a story, his is laughter, his door

is never shut. Hemmed in are words he knows

not, a fine bred repertoire of jokes never slows.

The crowd is happy, but left crying out for more.