Sonnet from the Porch de Guise

When you were young and tirelessly wont
to julienne my ankles through the sheet,
I found you nonetheless un cher enfant
and you received me into the retreat
you'd built yourself, far from the irksome lot
that had so ignominiously been thrust
into your courtly midst. But then I got
full custody, discretionary trust,
and chancellery of your earthly realm—
the which you seem inclined to soon forsake.
Since healers' cordials may yet underwhelm
(for heretofore they have), I bid you take
this moment, secreted from all chagrin,
and deign once more to let me scritch your chin.