Skip child. Skip whilst you can,
before the claws of adulthood
drag you from your innocence.
Wave your rose like the wand of an evil fairy
as you wish, and poke the poetry man
so he loses his place and the listeners
shuffle awkwardly to adjust themselves on the
wooden seats. In two blinks and soon after
the petals drop you will be too full of rules to
rush up and down and giggle without
a flicker of conscience.