A diverting conversation passed between the prince and me

Regarding thoroughness of hygiene and certain spots for tea

A deluge of delight, his words inspired belief

An indelible impression of knowledge running deep

A clump of tea rooms on the high street, one or two upon the sea

A third one in the heavens (or at least atop the tree)

All filled with rainbow fizzes and peppermint delights

His bright imagination painting chockie tails for kites.

He took my hand and led me to his tea room in the tree

Snuggled, quirky smile upon his face, little bod upon my knee

He informed me he required a fecundity of treats

To stock his shelves, to offer me, but most importantly, to eat!

Quixotic aspiration became a quagmire of dismay, as

Joy disintegrated and his hoping ebbed away

His imagination flagged before unconquerable denial

His prince-i-ful demeanour frayed, his face crumpled in unsmile.

A bonfire of rebuke ensued - no stealth in his approach

No shyness on his part as he decided how to broach

The appalling deprivation. He tantrummed to the fray

No balaclava for his face, no tip-toeing away

He dragged a chair to climb before the open pantry door

He encouraged certain foodstuffs to do battle with the floor

But he found his action thwarted by the two arms of another

Indeed, he was enfolded by, and cleaving to, his mother.

And so a truce was brokered, using dried figs and bananas,

Then brushing teeth, story-time and finally, pyjamas.

He's now asleep and I am sipping coffee in my chair

And thinking of my toddler prince's castles in the air.

GL, 2011.