Just like a family picnic –
you and your various mini-me’s assemble in riotous good nature,
a plethora of shapes and colours and identities and ages;
a neat baker’s dozen of assorted pastries
dipped in philosophical frosting
and whetted on the milk of human kindness.
Each brings its own flavour as a side-dish;
dessert is served in the sweetness with which
you coddle your brood.