I know no better than withhold my trust of you
Since I wouldn’t be so honest without a thing to hide.
Are you some kind of child just swept up?
And all around is your delight, eyes wide?
It’s folded and unfolded—unwound and reversed—
In home-to-meet-her-mother’s charm.
Your soft-focused features find you out,
While I’ve still not got you down,
But your only fraud is looking like one.
Charlie, what the heck? I’m disarmed by that affect!