My sister, when born, was so very thin.

 Her eyes were large and full to the brim

 With tears and sparkles and that little smile,

 Every time she saw my mother pry.

She was alone in some room, kept away,

 For time as brief as four long days.

 My mother would miss her so and weep,

 Hoping that she would soon heal.

After she was cured, she did come home.

 She was so small yet somewhat grown.

 She was so very fragile in my arms,

 That they had to look into her heart.

Time after time, she grows and grows,

 But some disease always strikes her so,

 That Maa cries, and so do I,

 But, we know nothing, to no one's surprise.

I hope when she grows, she grows up healthy,

 Her spirits are fiery and her tactics stealthy,

 Her eyes just as big with spunk and delight,

 I want her to grow, conquer, and survive.

And tell her to love with no care of repercussion,

 "Fear no authority, nor bend to submission.

 Close your eyes and listen to your mind,

 And when time demands, chase your prize.

But never not believe you are alone,

 You shall find me even  when all has grown

 Out and away from our small reach

 I shall make life for you a breeze."

Aysha Zaheen speaks in rhymes and mumbles in pain. Send her nice quotes at

zaheenaysha@gmail.com