Poems

Chapter 73: GROWN-UP TALK

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About This Book

A lyrical collection of short poems grouped by creative periods, ranging from intimate sketches of domestic and childhood moments to meditations on nature, the sea, love, loss, and memory. Many pieces blend concise, imagistic language with prose-like rhythms, alternating playful child verses and delicate elegies, and often evoke sensory detail—light, wind, flowers, and seaside landscapes—to explore fleeting moods and inward reflection. Several poems record quiet domestic scenes and grieving recollections, while others experiment with voice and form, producing both whimsical and mournful tones. The result is an intimate, varied sequence that emphasizes emotion, perception, and the small gestures that shape inner life.

GROWN-UP TALK

Half-Past-Six and I were talking
In a very grown-up way;
We had got so tired with running
That we did not want to play.

“How do babies come, I wonder,”
He said, looking at the sky,
“Does God mix the things together
An’ just make it—like a pie?”

I was really not quite certain,
But it sounded very nice;
It was all that we could think of,
Besides a book said ‘sugar and spice.’

Half-Past-Six said—he’s so clever—
Cleverer than me, I mean ...
“I suppose God makes the black ones
When the saucepan isn’t clean.”