Four years old, 

meandering Marksies with mum,

following the fancy of his feet, 

the manikin sees the mannequin.

Is drawn, fascinated.

Stands before the bikini-clad female figure

as if in worship.

Reaches out and touches.

Touches the cloth,

touches the naughty bits,

the .....would you call it skin?

His mother, my daughter-in-law,

is splitting her sides beside me.

We are all smiling

at his gentle, caressing exploration,

his innocence.

I want some of that. 

I want that innocence in me. 

I want to give it to my beloved.

I want to live it.