Valley shouts and rocky stumbles,

Echoes of a youthful tune,

Dance within an altered child

Born in frost, but changed by June.

Rowdy nights of sleepless riot

Prepped us for eventful days;

Consequence was our puppet,

Fabrication was our clay.

Hills of dewy poison berries

Glistened tantalizingly,

Shooting sun-flecks through a window,

Framing tempted Emily.

Often blistered by her boldness,

Fire’s child craved the flame;

Quirky, weird, and effervescent,

Emma cried and felt no shame.

Gifted charm beguiled silence

Into laughter; warm and free;

Flowing through the hazy sunshine;

Captivating family.

Innocence soon settled firmly

In the soul of little Mell,

Quaint and doll-like, our treasure,

With compassion cast her spell.

A dainty product of an era

Typified by crime and vice,

An angel child borrowed briefly 

From the heavens, without price.

With empathetic selflessness

Displayed in youth’s naivety,

Mellisa gave and gave some more,

Captivating family.

Conductor of a symphony

Of boys and growth and soul and zest,

Amanda blazed through everything;

With ardent favour she was blest.

A careless queen; a dancing flirt;  

A social tune sung without rift;

Her walls enshrined a sunny life

Of large delight in minor gifts.

Insatiably inquisitive,

She’d challenge rules persistently,

Her cunning wit and kind conduct

Soon captivated family.

Model to a motley bunch

Of children wrapped in her old clothes,

Lu Lu’s weighty influence was

Contravened by dainty toes.

Slight and sharp, her admonitions

Summoned blithely triggered taunts,

From vexatious, watchful children;

Unaware of adult wants. 

Lu Lu was a wild enigma,

Just like her we wished to be,

Plainness envied beauty’s knack for

Captivating family.

Undiluted by our judgement,

Little David never grew,

In our household’s cherished memory

He was seven; he was two.

He was bike rides through the valley

Shared by callused hands and feet;

He was yummy Toaster Strudels;

Crispy clothes and clinging sheets.

David lived within our footprints ...

He was nothing; he was all.

Subject to our captivation,

We regressed and learned to crawl.

Me? I’m just a kid with crayons,

Sketching scarlet cows in skies,

Aimless then and aimless often,

Preaching love to passersby.