My grand daughter Danielle Maureen ,
with an impish smile and a toothy grin
black pigtails swinging about her neck
and a blush in her dimpled cheeks,
into the house she comes like the wind.
She sways , skips and pirouettes
dances and twirls on her bare feet,
some toes painted purple, some polished red.
her eyes round as saucers as she launches
The tales of younger brother Mikael’s mischief .
“One night he spilled choco on his books while at dinner,” she tells,
“ then at breakfast his bowl of rice on his chest. Mama got upset.”
“He wakes so late in the morning, and takes time in getting up,
we’re late for school for he cries at the table , and Mama is mad.
Papa made him stand at a corner, ‘til he sobered up.”
I hug them both and hid a smile; i know she bears him no ill will,
A more loving sister one can’t find;
Some days she’s the “teach” , and he is the “stude”,
Some days she acts like she’s "mom”
but truth is, he’s only six , and she’s just nine .
“ Dani is not too bad as sisters go, and I love her so ” says he,
“ but she’s still a bad news bear to me.”
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