Unsought

Older than I , you laugh and play
with abandon of a child.

I could be your child,
I am that much younger.

From metal frames twinkle eyes
full of merry constellated tales.
Full warm lips edge laughter lovingly.

In grayest December you carry sunshine
badly hidden in your coat pockets,
like twitch of moustache betrays
teasing sense of humor.

My eyes slide skipping lustily
over furring greyed thatch,
generous benevolent tummy.
Logic holds firm heart's reins
but...

...when you playfully attack,
flirt with wads of paper
to stick in my hair, muss my 'do,
you brand me with a blush.