a certain type of magic

as an older sibling 
I wield a certain type of magic
with a wand made of memories
and a broom formed from love
I zip around 
wiping honey off hands
and sewing up stuft animals 
I do all I can 
with space for myself
I write 
and I laugh 
and try to be kind
but sometimes I have my bad days
my magic
is the love
I feel for my family
and the strength I can find
when they need me
even when I feel broken 
like a plastic fork 
stuck in a peice of depressing meatloaf
I pick myself up 
and keep going for them 
I hold up my head 
and grit through the pain
because I love them
through the bad and the good 
I'll be here
working my magic
as I do.