Of five of eight
Which are also three,
One is part of me.
But lacks might.
For I, am simply I.
Yet, two are part of you.
One is missing, but it makes itself seen,
By being bold, down three.

Of three,
The first, second and third are akin,
Sisters not of blood to you or I,
Yet family nonetheless.

We begin with the first:

Of age she is a little off center.
And not part of any knot.
Nor a moth, in spider web caught.

The third, The eldest bakes with great skill,
But lacks zeal when using yeast.
None the less,
Her second cousin, in quantities, Vast, consumes each complete batch.

When together,
I and the sisters mostly disagree.
Though you do not,
Only the youngest and eldest,
Get along together it seems.
You and the eldest are quite close,
And all speaking together,
Form one phrase
In praise.