A portrait of shadow in sand

Sisters stand, breakfast all but done, in emerging sun.
The cat gingerly turns away. Why so shocked, why
so stern. One sister knows but it will go no further.

Sand holds secrets in its grainy patterns, lines up
geometry like whispers that repeat and worry.
Sister has your back. Cat has turned but remains.

What they’ve seen is cause for concern, a moment
they thought you wouldn’t notice, but it is locked in,
cannot be unseen by sisters, cat, the coming day.

The shadows of such a thing are long, their grey
creeping locks out light, builds up the tiled wall
between them, and no one gets out unchanged.