In a hospital, I once volunteered,
Where life and death so often interfered.
A little girl, with illness severe,
Needed a transfusion, that was clear.
Her brother, just five years of age,
Had faced the same disease, turned the page.
His antibodies could save her life,
The doctor told him, midst the strife.
Without hesitation, he made his choice,
A brave and selfless little voice.
"I'll give my blood to save her," he said,
His sister's life, he would not shed.
Lying next to her, he looked on,
His smile soon fading, his face drawn.
He asked the doctor, with a trembling fear,
"Will I start to die right here?"
The little boy thought he'd give it all,
His blood, his life, at his sister's call.
The red thread that tied them together,
Would not be severed, not ever.
As the blood flowed from his tiny vein,
He felt a warmth, a life sustain.
His sister's face began to glow,
A gift of love, he did bestow.
In that moment, a bond was made,
A love that nothing could ever fade.
A brother's sacrifice, so pure and true,
A gift of life, a gift for you.
The red thread that binds us all,
A symbol of love, both big and small.
A reminder of the power we hold,
To give of ourselves, in stories untold.
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