As I crept down the stairs tonight
I heard a voice call out.
That same voice that spilled tears in the morning
When it couldn’t find a favourite green dress.
That same voice growled me for over-feeding the goldfish.
And being all prickly. And begged for a story.
That same shrieking voice that won victory after victory
In daily races to the telephone, even though it was always for me.
Calling out as polite ponies galloped and nuzzled on her new duvet
‘Dad, can you leave the light on tonight.’
‘Like Mummy did’.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
must be the voice of your sister! dan