Finding My Voice

At the table, laughter spills like a flood,

my siblings weave stories through heart and through blood.

I sit there in silence, trying to compete,

as voices entwine, the past feels so sweet.

I’m a note in the chorus, a hum in the noise,

shouting through echoes of their louder joys.

Memories rush past, like cars in a dream,

as I fight for a chance, to join in the gleam.

But there’s something in being the youngest of three,

a softness, a tenderness wrapped up in the glee.

I learn to be patient, to find my own line,

to carve out a place where my thoughts can align.