He was born in July, like a new star in the sky,
He announced his arrival with a sharp little cry.
His brothers and sisters were all big and grown,
His dad had moved out but wasn’t far from his home.
He grew up in a street, surrounded by friends,
With flowers and wind chimes and rainbows and hens.
Spencer Street was a great place to be,
He just wished that still there lived his family.
The neighbours all loved him as their own,
Sheila next door used to come round and phone.
And like her own son, she had to sometimes scold,
But she did so gently so he understood what she told.
“You’re drumming is getting better”, she said gently one eve,
“And you very good, but sometimes people need to sleep”.
“Carry on with your drumming and you can be a star,
“But I don’t want to hear you through the wall, I want to watch you from afar.”
So he kept quiet with the drums, and soon the cat came near,
You see the cat didn’t like noise and cowered in fear.
Soon he and the cat were as close as could be,
They played on the carpet and danced on the settee.
You wouldn’t think it possible, but there was one time,
That boy and cat came together to dine.
Mum put cubes of cheese in a bowl on the floor,
And he knelt with the cat and ate with mouth but no paws.
A few years later, he wasn’t a child alone
For his siblings were having kids of their own.
Now there were lots of them toddling around,
Having picnics in the park and crawling on the ground.
So after feeling like he was born to late,
Who would have thought it but there came fate.
And his the siblings who he wanted to grow up around,
Had some babies of their own who with he could bound.
A family is not just brothers and sisters,
It can be nieces and nephews and misses and misters.
It’s whoever you want for and care for and live for,
Or those who you sit on the ground with and want nothing more.