Night on Shaw Road

The little girl.
She's telling me jokes,
from her new, shiny book.

Some we get,
and some we don't.
We laugh on the sofa.
Demolish a packet of crisps.

You are in the kitchen.
On the phone,
helping a friend.
The one who gave the finger,
to a parent.

And I'm ok here.
I with my new gang.
Warm and welcome.
In this blanket of a house.

Later on.
it's you and me.
Your head in my lap.
My hand in your hair.

My love.
You are beautiful.
No jokes.
No lies from my old book.

You are not a little girl at all.
I might be a man at last.