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... Page One

My Sister

Little Sister of Mine

Sisters

Brother and Sister


My Sister

My sister is my heart.
She opens doors to rooms
I never knew were there,
Breaks through walls
I don't recall building.
She lights my darkest corners
With the sparkle in her eyes.

My sister is my soul.
She inspires my wearied spirit
To fly on wings of angels
But while I hold her hand
My feet never leave the ground.
She stills my deepest fears
With the wisdom of her song.

My sister is my past.
She writes my history
In her eyes I recognize myself,
Memories only we can share.
She remembers, she forgives
She accepts me as I am
With tender understanding.

My sister is my future.
She lives within my dreams
She sees my undiscovered secrets,
Believes in me as I stumble
She walks in step beside me,
Her love lighting my way.

My sister is my strength
She hears the whispered prayers
That I cannot speak
She helps me find my smile,
Freely giving hers away
She catches my tears
In her gentle hands.

My sister is like no one else
She's my most treasured friend
Filling up the empty spaces
Healing broken places
She is my rock, my inspiration.
Though impossible to define,
In a word, she is...my sister.

Poem by Lisa Lorden

Little Sister of Mine

Well little sister of mine
I see you have my clothes on again,
And isn't that my perfume
that I can smell so strong?

And how about those shoes,
aren't they my Easter clogs?
What about those socks,
are they mine too?

Well little sister of mine
the least you could do
is to get the clothes that fit
and use a little less perfume.

And those shoes you can have
cause they are kind of tight on me.
As for the socks,
they're yours, I see.

My love is yours too.
And well, as for me,
I'm trying to be
as nice a big sister
"as I possibly can be."

by Cindy

Sisters

When Nan and I were little
we sometimes used to fight:
she'd read my secret diary
and I would scratch and bite.

If she pulled up the window shade
I would want it down;
if she wore short pajamas
I'd wear a long nightgown.

But then we learned it's better
to have a sister-friend,
someone beside you in the dark,
someone to hold your hand.

Now we're glad my hair is long
and hers is short and curled.
The difference doesn't matter:
we're two against the world.

by Ruth Whitman

Brother and Sister

"Sister, sister, go to bed!
Go and rest your weary head."
Thus the prudent brother said.

'Do you want a battered hide,
Or scratches to your face applied?"
Thus his sister calm replied.

"Sister do not raise my wrath,
I'd make you into mutton broth
As easily as kill a moth!"

The sister raised her beaming eye
And looked on him indignantly
And Sternly answered, "Only try!"

Off to the cook he quickly ran.
"Dear Cook, please lend a frying-pan
To me as quickly as you can."

"And wherefore should I lend it you?"
"The reason, Cook, is plain to view.
I wish to make an Irish stew."

"What meat is in that stew to go?"
"My sister'll be the contents!"
"Oh!"
"You'll lend the pan to me, Cook?"
"No!"

Moral: Never stew your sister.

by Lewis Carroll