They are the ones who know my heart. I am the one who knows theirs. Four caring brothers with big hearts and long legs like mine. Four who sometimes fight, but love still. Four helpless babies raised by my parents. In my home, I hang out with them, there mom cooks and helps me appreciate these things.

Their strength is family. They send loving words into my heart. They grow through good and they grow through bad and grow with each other holding their tired hands and grab the other with forceful grasps and never rid their love.

Let one forget their reason for caring, they’d all welt like plants in the hot sun, each with their hand in hand. Love, love, love, they say when I’m in need. They care.

When I am too sad and too hopeless to keep loving, when I am a tiny soul against the whole world, then it is I look to my brothers. When there is nothing left to see in this life. Four who grew through the heat. Four who love and do not forget to love. Four whose only goal is love and live free.