When Maya was four, Noah was two.

He remembers the things she taught him to do.

Dressing up, hide-and-seek, fun games to play,

Painting and drawing on a cold, rainy day.

The two of them - just as it should be,

Her, big sister Maya, and Noah is me.

Now Maya's five, and Noah is three.

She'll be by his side when they go to the sea,

Looking for shells, ice-cream sticky and sweet,

Feeling the soothing sand under our feet.

We'll paddle and splash about, shouting with glee -

Her, bid sister Maya, and Noah is me.

When Maya is six, Noah will be four.

She'll show him a world just for them to explore.

They'll follow a trail that leads through the park,

then hide in the bushes, leafy and dark.

When they're together, there's so much to see - 

Her, big sister Maya, and Noah is me.

When Maya is seven, Noah will be five. 

They'll have so much fun

- they'll feel so alive.

Running and jumping and climbing in trees -

They won't care if it's muddy,

or if they scrape their knees.

Laughing at jokes as they walk home for tea...

Her, big sister Maya, and Noah is me.