Equator Blown Over
I never met my sister till I was twenty-three
(nor she me, nor she me)
I wish I'd asked my mother, when I met her on the stair
Where be she? Where be she?
I never had a brother, though, in truth, I do not care
Now I'm three, now I'm three
Who will now take care of me?
Contributors: | TG, Roland. |
Poem finished: | 1st August 2006 by Roland. |