A Question of Love
Oh, my dear Littlefoot, I ask you to listen well.
You want to know if I truly love? Listen as I tell.
When you ran off after dark, I couldn’t help but hear the thud.
I certainly did hear your cries but still nipped you in the bud.
After dinner you did ask for extra before sleep,
Yet not a stir I made that night, just took a little peep.
When morning came and you got up to have a little run,
I called you back and kept you close which halted any fun.
When at last a watering hole was found upon our way,
I pulled you back and wouldn’t let you have a drop all day.
When later on you wanted so to have a quiet rest,
I refused to have us stop and just said to do your best.
A growling tummy I did hear from your direction late,
And then I got you the driest leaves after quite a wait.
When growing bored you really wanted to have a little talk,
I barely answered you at all, simply told you, “Walk.”
Now here we are, nearing sleep, and you ask me of this?
Have a seat, listen close, and I’ll explain after this kiss.
I warned you many, many times to never leave at night.
The reason is you may just find a scary, threatening fight.
You came up and asked for me to give you a little snack,
But if I did so, with dying trees, a breakfast you would lack.
When you wanted to stretch your legs and hurried far from me,
I had to call and bring you back, for dangers you don’t see.
We all were thirsty when at last a watering hole was found,
But deep inside some deadly plants were growing in a mound.
I know at times you need a bit to have some quiet breaths,
But sharpteeth were sighted not too far, so I avoided timely deaths.
I know a growing child should get the wettest, greenest meal,
But your grandpa, weak from hunger, was losing all his feel.
I cherish too so many talks with my precious, lovely son,
But if those hungry hunters heard, we’d quickly have to run.
So Littlefoot, dear Littlefoot, how can you ask me if I love?
Don’t you see my caring eyes always watching from above?
