Poet: C. A. Lynch
Oh, dear sister, so bold and free,
You "borrow" things, it's clear to see.
My clothes, my makeup, all you take,
Leaving me with nothing but heartache.
Your closet's full, yet still you roam,
In search of items to call your own.
But sister dear, can't you see?
Those things belong just to me.
Your fashion sense, I must admit,
Is top-notch, a perfect fit.
But must you raid my wardrobe's door,
Leaving it bare, like never before?
So, sister mine, let's strike a deal,
No more sneaky "borrowing" appeal.
For ev though we share, that much is true,
But ask first, before you pursue.
Let's laugh together, share our finds,
No need for pilfering behind blinds.
For in the end, it's sisterhood we treasure,
Not the things we "borrow" for our pleasure.
Poet: C. A. Lynch
Sister, oh sister, let me recall,
The times our fashion made us bawl.
Long dresses dragging on the ground,
Mismatched socks, what a sight we found!
Remember the sweater, all colours bold,
Like a zebra's stripes, we were told.
We thought we were stylish. Oh what a laugh,
But looking back now, we're off the path.
In sneakers and socks, not a pair matched,
Oh sister, the memories we've hatched.
But through it all, we've had such fun,
In our fashion adventures, second to none.
So here's to us, and our style so grand,
Even when it didn't go as planned.
For in each other, we always find glee,
Sister, you're the best, it's plain to see!
Poet: C. A. Lynch
In games we play, sister, we're both keen,
Competing fiercely, like a dynamic team.
Remote control wars, a constant fight,
Brother and sister, side by side, in the light.
For parental favour, we each vie,
But in the end, it's love that doesn't die.
Through arguments and bickering, we find,
A bond that's unbreakable, one of a kind.
So here's to you, sister, my closest friend,
In this sibling rivalry, may it never end.
Brother and sister, forever together,
In our competitive spirit, we'll always weather.
Poet: C. A. Lynch
In our home, where chaos reigns,
There dwells my sister, full of games.
With talent sharp, you twist the truth,
And pins the blame on me, the youth.
You broke Mom's creamer, delicate and fine,
But somehow, sister's hands were not the crime.
And Dad's mug, shattered on the floor,
Yet your innocence, you did implore.
With practiced ease, you shift the blame,
Leaving me to face the shame.
Oh sister dear, with cunning art,
You play your games and break my heart.
But though you weave your tales so clever,
I'll stand by you, sister forever.
For in the dance of blame, we're tied, you see,
Forever bound, sister and brother, we'll be.
Poet: C. A. Lynch
On trips with sister, chaos ensues,
Disaster follows, as if on cue.
Toothbrush forgotten, pyjamas too,
Your antics leave us in quite a stew.
In the middle of nowhere, you'll cry out,
Needing the bathroom, without a doubt.
But despite the chaos, I'll always find,
Love for you, my sister, one of a kind.
Poems About Sisters
Poet: C. A. Lynch
My sister, oh sister, full of glee,
But causing embarrassment, it seems to be.
Skipping school to movies attend, oh dear,
Leaving you red-faced, filled with fear.
And in front of my new girlfriend, too,
You talk of old flames, what can I do?
Your talent for embarrassment, truly vast,
Leaves me wishing these moments could pass.
Yet despite it all, I love you still,
Through the embarrassment, we always will.
For sister and brother, through thick and thin,
In embarrassment's wake, we'll still grin.
