by Maria Reyes
You should hardly look up to me, I'm not better than you.
Little eyes shine, shine like they always do.
I'm the older sister, by only six years,
yet you look up to me as if I have no fears.
Little voice carries all ill-intent away,
like the wind blows the sail boats out of the bay.
Little is the idea, that you know what you do to me.
As well as it should little sister, why do you look up to me?
Innocent is you with your merry little smiles,
it shines is so bright, you can see it for miles.
Little sister, how can I compete?
I throw up my towel, I admit defeat.
Little sister, your laughter is golden.
Little sister, my heart you have stolen.
For I bet this is what our older sister went through.
I can only wonder, if this will ever happen to you?