Sis

Growing up with my sis, we fought and fought.
Much more than we should've, much more than we ought.
Competition between us was always so fierce,
So on we would fight for years and years.
I was much older but none did it matter,
When it came to my sis, it just made her madder.
To call her a tomboy is to be understated.
To say she kept up was way overrated.
But whatever I did and wherever I went,
She was sure to try to follow, hell bent.
She wanted to be all her big brother was,
And still daddy's girl all just because.
If I got a game, she wanted it too.
If I got it used, she wanted it new.
There was just no stopping her ceaseless drive,
If I rolled a four, she wanted a five.
And sometimes I think with all she would do,
If she could pee standing up, she'd have done that too.

Now we're both grown, adults in our own right,
We get along great, we no longer fight.
Children can do and say the meanest things,
The harshness of childhood, and all that it brings.
Calling of names and pulling of hair,
The doing of deeds not quite that fair.
As I think back on times and memories back then . . .
I should've held back some, and let her win.
Just a few times, oh, here and there,
It would've been nice to show her I care.
We all know about hindsight being twenty-twenty,
I look back to then, I made mistakes plenty.
I guess what I'm saying to my little sis now,
Is that I've loved her always . . . and she's a big fat cow.