My sister my sister the magician
spent the first six years of her
premature life in the bathtub
suds ahoop plotting and a planning
She was really quite as normal
as any of the Caterpillar family
That Christmas after dinner, and
this was 1999 after all, with the
family stuffed and slumbered, she
casually sent a drone
aloft equipped with a phone
It beamed back 80 per cent
ginger carpet and bald spots
canine misdemeanours and the
last resting place of her
ballet shoe atop the shed
We hold her in our hearts
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