A Considered Reply to a Child

‘I love you,’ you said between two mouthfuls of pudding.

But not funny; I didn’t want to laugh at all.

Rolling three years’ experience in a ball,

You nudged it friendlily across the table.

A stranger, almost, I was flattered – no kidding.

It’s not every day I hear a thing like that;

And when I do my answer’s never pat.

I’m about nine times your age, ten times less able

To say – what you said; incapable of unloading

Plonk at someone’s feet, like a box of bricks,

A declaration. When I try, it sticks

Like fish-bones in my throat; my eyes tingle.

What’s called ‘passion’, you’ll learn, may become ‘overriding’.

But not in me it doesn’t: I’m that smart,

I can give everything and keep my heart.

Kisses are kisses. No need for souls to mingle.

Bed’s bed, what’s more, and you’d say it’s meant for sleeping;

And, believe me, you’d be absolutely right.

With luck you’ll never lie awake all night,

Someone beside you (rather like ‘crying’) weeping.