You telephone In the middle of the night For comfort When your nightmares, Half imagined, Half real, Overwhelm your Shaky sense Of adult pride. Suddenly, you are child again, But with adult pain, Problems of your own making - And the world's - Which I cannot "kiss better." We talk easily now - At this distance - Almost as friends, Though I still Question, discuss, And minimally, But gently, Suggest. You are calmed. We will both sleep now. But later - Not tonight - You will say again That I impede you From growing up.