Around the rug, I walk the boy The kitchen slants, the faucet drips Circles have never been so coy It's not a system, or some ploy This need to warm up his blue lips Around the rug, I walk the boy While the war outside may destroy My need to rock him to sleep, perhaps Circles have never been so coy My words, my love, are a poet's decoy To save the child that my mind whips Around the rug, I walk the boy. As sirens wail, and bombs deploy The mother slips out with a swish of hips Circles have never been so coy A young father with no milk, no joy In doing these laps, making these trips Around the rug, I walk the boy Circles have never been so coy.