The pie’s cooking in the oven –
the smell of fresh food wafting
through the air.
She has him on the bed upstairs
and she’s forgotten about the kitchen.
She’s looking at him hungrily ‘cause
He’s a real little mummy’s boy but
give him a break – he’s only nine
and daddy died when he was young.
Kids need companionship and her touch
feels pleasant, ‘though he’s not sure it should
‘cause she tells him it’s a secret and the
commercials on the TV between the cartoons
Say secrets are wrong and it should stop –
but he’s not like the little crying kids on TV
because she loves him – doesn’t hurt him.
He’s far too confused when she kisses him,
whispering that he’s “man of the house now”
and her “perfect little man”. So he really only
craves her touch because he needs her so much,
‘though really he’d prefer just a cuddle.
Still he won’t say anything, because he loves her
And his thoughts are such a muddles.
He’s just mammy’s little boy - and she sighs
when he whispers to her that the food’s burning.