Watching sister growing up,
the thought still brings a smile.
A pixie girl with tiger friend,
just tiny for awhile.
The lightest little rag doll
that we ever threw around.
Is all grown now and sprouting wings
to take her from the ground.
But blessed we were to see her rise,
from 'Twiggy' to her present state.
A mother sweet, a smile to greet;
the children as they clean their plate.
And always growing, not in size,
but wisdom, charm and grace.
The stories tucked away behind,
the eyes upon her loving face.
To share with us, her triumphs and
to hide the pain for none to see.
Disguising all her troubles,
in a blanket of maturity.
She is my sister; I am proud,
this fact makes my heart sing.
But she's not finished, no, not-yet
she's growing angel wings
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great poem. Wonderfully conceived. I liked it for its remarkable imagery and decent style. Rated it 10. TFS..... Kindly read and rate my poem 'Abortion' on page 4.