I stared blankly at my reflection,

quite expressionless.

My straightened black hair shining brilliantly in the evening light,

matching my brow and lashes

which greatly contrast

with my pale skin and rosy complexion.

You amble into the picture,

the newly found spring in your step

once more present.

Singing absentmindedly along to the music,

you twirl next to me,

your loose cotton dress swaying gracefully.

Flinging a naturally tan arm over my shoulder,

you, too, stare into the mirror,

your angular cheek softly touches my own,

your golden curls tickling my ear.

"We look different,"

you whisper,

your honey eyes boring into my own,

(deep mocha).

I survey myself diffidently

taking in the deep-V

that leads flirtatiously to delicate lace

and mid-calf shorts that were both

hand-me-downs from none other

than you.

You watch all of this and say,

"You sophisticated – "

more like boring, I think

" – while I'm more…"

you hesitate, searching for the right word.

My eyes sweep

over the olive skin you alone inherited,

vintage ruffled frock

cutting off innocently at the knees,

and sun-kissed hair, carelessly pulled

into a messy ponytail

that strongly reflects a sense

of wild beauty.

"You look like a flower-child,"

I say.

"And it changes every day,"

you finish, smiling.

I turn once more to face the mirror

only to find myself grinning broadly.

Arms wrapped around each other,

we gaze at our image,

and for a moment,

the two sister,

though quite unique,

are equally beautiful.