A/N: A quickie I wrote in about 15 minutes about going to see my parents' friends' kids yesterday. One girl, Amy (6), I gave a piggyback to at the end of the walk we went on and it was a completely novel sensation - actually enjoying being around kids. She also informed me that when you're 17 you grow boobies... Needless to say, I was already aware of the fact.

Kids are noisy. Running around,
Making ten times the sound they should.
I hated them.
But that hand changed everything.
No longer were you just some
Annoying child, another headache.
It was the fingers. They felt,
To me,
Like smooth velvet,
Buried in my palm.
Such trust at such an age.

I held you tight.

I wondered,
Do I seem big and tall,
Next to your small frame?
I remembered my next-door neighbour,
Who'd sometimes sit my brother and I
As a favour.
She was seventeen, too.
All-knowing, like my parents,
But without the authority
And with the fun.
She wore her watch the wrong way round,
And I couldn't work out why.
She was another world -
Is that how I seemed to you?

A small trigger,
And a strange one.
I lead you on our path,
And picked you up,
(To keep you from trouble)
Agreeing to carry you on my back.
Your hands clasped round my neck,
The fingers intertwined.
And suddenly I find,
I don't mind kids after all.