....let me count the ways.
Shakespeare's Sonnet 43, so Google tells me. And a question I've asked myself this evening, after an encounter, of sorts, on the train back to 'domicile-ville'. About boys, of course. In this case, because he was sitting behind me, I wasn't even sure it was a boy until we got into the station, and got off of the train at the same door. He was about 8, and although he wasn't that stunningly good-looking, he was obviously bright, listening to his conversation with his older brother (who wasn't at all difficult to look at himself). The real 'hook', though, was the most lovely, infectious laugh I've heard in ages. His mother kept trying to shush him - I felt like telling her to chill, because I could've listened to that laugh all day and all night. Not an ounce of sex in my attraction towards him, despite what some might assume - he was just a lovely, bright, cute little boy, who I would've loved to have hugged, and nothing more.
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Funny mow the mums want to shush the boys!
ReplyDeletePeace <3
Jay
Hello Jay
DeleteAnd they weren't even being in any way rowdy, just being boys. I could be ultra-cynical and say that this kind of heavy-handed maternal suppression of boyhood exuberance is the first lesson in being 'pussy whipped', but that might lay me open to charges of misogyny!
Love & best wishes
Sammy B