Chapter Text
1
High off of her authority she stands
Across the room, arms crossed, cross look, askance.
He knows she will be starting with her hands
And that the hairbrush soon will make him dance.
Sullen, he sulks and huffs and pouts and glares.
"Be reasonable," he pleads, one last resort.
Perhaps he could try running, if he dares?
What would their parents do at her report?
It seems unfair that one so close in age
Can wield the power of parental ire.
But as they’ve grown, she’s proven to be sage
And thus has earn’d the right to stoke this pyre.
Forlorn, he yields, and since Sister holds fast
So younger Brother bares himself at last.