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Lively yet demure, young girls intent
On Saturdays in supermarkets on
Urging parents that whatever’s spent
Their chosen treat survive the checkout run,
Have all the fresh plump glow of eight-year-olds,
Depthlike trustful eyes which none beholds
Without a wish to take their hands and guide
Innocency through the day’s betide.
How do I know? I had one once,
Though now she’s gone.
Joy
that integrates the self it is
To care for them, to feed and play with
them,Read them bedtime tales and with a kiss
Settle them down, droop-eyed, at slumber’s hem;
Of course there’s wilfulness and small girl screams,
Tearful throes when you disrupt their schemes,
But soon a purposed hush engulfs the house,
Screen-engaged, your miss is as a mouse.
How do I know? I had one once,
Though now she’s gone.
Oh,
that parents part, what wickedness!
For children, essence-merged in a safe
world,Cling to its terrain yet must confess
A choice of parent which leaves all meaning swirled;
Perhaps they then reject the one apart,
Distance dimming love’s unwelcome smart,
For, truth, if love were stop-knot tight in use
Misses might prefer to slip that noose.
How do I know? I had one once,
And now she’s gone.
Now
I scan the sea, its salt-thirst miles,
Pining lost years of helpmeet fatherhood;Canny girls in supermarket aisles
Across the prom are weighing “would” and “should”
In psychic tug with parents for their wants.
Reprobate, expunged from those vivants,
I ache that daughters might like some gruff gull
Disavow a father’s hapless pull.
How do I know? I had one once,
And now she’s gone.
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©
June 2015