Dearest sis,
Something seems to be amiss
When you are not there, my dear sis
Your talks of a-a-a-...
And your endless banter
Your comments on Big Shit
Which so appropriately fit
That even if there was more to say
If nothings said, it’s perfectly okay
Waking up early Sunday morn
And stifling out the regular yawn
Saying, ‘Oh Shit, it’s six’
Claiming that you’re in a fix
And then, ‘Oh Shit, I’m late’
As if the fault is of fate
And ‘Oh Shit, I’ve oil in my hair’
(... With lots more in the bottle to spare?!!)
Finally, ‘Oh Shit, it’s Sunday!’
Going back to dream away.
Nothing seems to be amiss
When you are around, my dear sis!!
It’s an old story
But I’m truly sorry!!!
Regretfully,
Farhad
An apology written during my teens to my dearest sister.