My Partner ' a Younger Sister'

Secrecy, What’s that? Privacy, What’s that? My sister is growing well, Always her eyes investigated me. When I wrote my first love letter, Nobody in family knew about that, I wrote it in the midnight, When everyone was yawning, And sleep was swinging her swing, Darkness was enjoying calmly, Stars were twinkling in the palm of clear sky, Cool air was embracing softly, Moon was dripping the blossom. Everything was moving slowly slowly, As they were frightened from noise, Street Dogs were hiding in sleep, Rats were jumping over cats, Jackal were rounding openly in the streets, They were scratching bins for foods, Owl was watching them from the street light pole, My dim light in the corner was moving the words. My dear love,’ It was nice to talk.’ I am free on the weekend. Nothing was new in my first writing, But it was all threatening to me. If Mum found me that, If Dad minded about me, How will treat my brother? How did I feel when my friends have annoying? It will be strange and conscious, When they shall draw a cartoon of my love, and me A spider web, Or a horse ridding girl, And a pony; a step chaser, I was seeking to remove my steps, As the waves were touching to sore. A very wide and open camping, But sand seemed itself totally unharmed. Very soft, as nobody touched it before, My body was shrinking itself, The expression was fragrantting my own, I was trying to hide my dreams, I never new that, My younger sister has watching me She read my letter when I was in bath. What was then? She was partner of my secrets. She was my own, Where privacy and secrecy has no meaning.