Senile Child, smile at me.
Uncurl yourself, show me who you could have been.
Hello Trouble, I say, look at me.
You grip my hand as your child would yours.
You moan as your child might.
You've seen more days than I.
I will leave and love and live a life.
And my child will grip my hand as you once did.
I always wonder if its envy in your eyes.
The endless able-bodied lie.
If I clambered into your dreams, would you uncurl yourself.
Stand up and thank me for my stay.
Goodbye my trouble, you'd say, as you looked at me.
You'd turn serenely, and walk away.