My Wee Sister
I remember the days that my wee sister used to annoy me
and I used to shout at her. For what? Being young
and enjoying herself. I suppose she was doing
what every young person does at that age
and was having fun. She goes out to play
with her friends every night
and probably gets up to all sorts of mischief!
Falling and scraping her knees, then
running inside and crying
as soon as she gets a plaster on it
she is out playing again.
She plays on her bike and with her dolls
but she likes to go on the computer and draw pictures.
She struts around the place as if she owns it.
Every woman is the same I suppose,
owning all sorts of clothes and shoes but yet
she wants more and she constantly informs me
that women can never have too many clothes or shoes.
I sometimes wonder to myself how she comes out
with some of the statements she does
because she’s only eight years old.
Eight going on twenty-eight, I think; well she thinks
She is just a wee wean. She never goes out the house without
her makeup. She has blue eyes with
ginger locks tied back with a scrunchie.
She goes to a primary school but doesn’t like it much
as she really hates doing her homework.
She always used to want me to come and help her
read books and also to read her a bedtime story.
I miss my wee sister annoying me,
to be honest.
I feel as though I’ve let her down big time as
I can’t be there for her everyday.
I speak to her on the phone every night and
she writes me one letter a week without fail
as well as drawing me pictures.
I tried to tell her I was in the
army — she isn’t stupid.
She knows where I am.
Even though I used
to slag her all the time
for her ginger hair,
she still loves me. Why?
Well, I don’t really
know, to be honest.
I’m her big brother. — Steve Smith