My little sister likes to try my shoes,
to strut in them,
admire her spindle thin twelve year old legs
in this season's styles. She says they fit her perfectly,
but wobbles
on their high heels, they're
hard to balance.
I like to watch my little sister
playing hopscotch,
admire the neat hops and skips of her,
their quick peck, never missing their mark, not
overstepping the line.
She is competent at peever.
I try to warn my little sister
about unsuitable shoes,
point out my own distorted feet, the callouses,
odd patches of hard skin.
I should not like to see her
in my shoes.
I wish she could stay
sure footed,
sensibly shod.
Now watch Suzi describe the meaning of the poem:
Now have a go at the quiz.
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