Wry smiles greet dirty little Jack home
A few shades browner than when he left.
Little girl dirties her dress; when in Rome…
Cleans herself up, quick, quick, must be deft.
Pinched cheeks. ’She’s spoilt for choice!’, they coo.
Staring at her toes, she nods the rose,
Every choice an illusion: his too;
Royal blue was not, once asked, what he chose
Petty talk of what’s proper, right and wrong.
None of what it’s worth.
Petticoats surround the golden gong.
Rose tinted glasses prized from pink hands at birth.
Health’s red cross, above her halo, crowning
Tall strangers squeal delight at teddy’s bath.
Caring nature, they take it, no clue he was drowning.
She could well be a sociopath.
Links; http://www.lettoysbetoys.org.uk/
http://www.unicef.org/earlychildhood/index_40749.html
tockofthe clocks 