It doesn’t matter now
But then it did.
When I was young
I would have loved
A sister or a brother.
My mother used to say
An only child was fortunate
To have so much —
So many toys, a bicycle,
A room all to myself
And holidays beside the sea.
“We couldn’t give you those”
She used to say
“If we’d had any more.”
I did not argue but
Deep down inside
With all my heart
I’d disagree.
Pete Crowther
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-only-child/
