I MET YOU WHEN YOU WERE A BUMP

I met you when you were a bump,
created in a last-year hump,
as I passed your mother one day
when sun gave off plenty of ray.

She stood within her garden's gate
while lawn sprinkler did irrigate
the flowers that were brightly growing
while your mother looked so glowing.

She held your sister on an arm
on that day summerily calm,
She wore just a green bikini;
I thought she'd tanned agreeably.

I guessed in two months you were due
to emerge from her body, nu,
prayed sister would accommodate
your new arrival as playmate.