Dear Sister...thou, Charles, and Mom; all three,
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a part of my life forever: I love
thee all! But this sonnet is writ for thee,
and for thee alone: for thou art, above
all, my sibling Achates, bosom friend
in my life and help in my poverty,
and suffering; thou art my childhood's Godsend.
I know not the veiled wherefore or the why
of my sad, tragic life; but, that nevermore
can I be the one to whom thou hast aspired,
the one to inspire thee as in times before,
thou well know'st (alas! my late self was expired).
So, because of thy precious love for me,
heaven's a place, I know, prepared for thee.