"This poem," Charlie had indeed decided to approach Wonka about the poem, "You loved her when she was a child."
"So did you," replied the chocolatier.
"But I was a child then too!"
"She was a child and I was a child, in this kingdom by the sea. But we loved with a love that was more than a love, I and my Annabel Lee. "
"Willy, this is not the time to recite Poe." It seemed to Charlie, that Wonka had grown even more odd as the years passed. A bit more dark, and a bit less sane. Then again, perhaps he was just coming to know this ageless man more. Yes, Wonka seemed so entirely ageless, that Charlie had come to believe that there was perhaps a painting hidden somewhere in the catacombs of the factory , that aged for him. While Charlie was quite handsome in himself, he lacked the beauty of Willy Wonka. Charlie Bucket was average. Willy Wonka was extraordinary.
"Actually, it is," he quipped, "You see, while Annabel Lee speaks of love between two young people, Poe was in fact a good twenty something years older than the girl he was writing about."
"So you recited it to justify Veruca, then?"
"I'm sorry, Charlie, I seem to be going deaf. You must speak a little louder if you wish for me to hear you."
Charlie knew that counted as a yes, "She has probably changed a lot, Willy. You cannot love the ghost of a girl who could not have passed these seven unchanged."
"But I have not changed in seven years."
"Not in the least. But you see, " he said with a roll of his eyes, "Veruca's human."
"But I am certain she is still beautiful, intelligent, and knowing what she wants!"
"She kissed you. If you ever left the factory, you surely would have been kissed more." Charlie was far from mean, however, he sometimes felt the need to bring Wonka back to reality, or at least try to.
"But I have not. So, it is what it is."
Drawing an annoyed sigh, Charlie turned to face Wonka , placed his hands on his shoulders as to keep him in place, and and placed a strong kiss to his mouth. This action caused Wonka to jump back and fall against the wall.
"Charlie! I may be a queer man, but not in that sense!"
Charlie laughed, "Neither am I. I was just proving a point."
"What sort of point could that make?"
"Well, I just kissed you. You are certainly not going to go obsess over me for seven years, are you?"
"Of course not! Question your sexuality, yes. But obsesses? No."
"Besides, you know I was with Veruca before."
"Must you remind me every second?"
"It was not out of love," mumbled Charlie, as he was quite certain he was treading on dangerous water with Wonka in one of his intense brooding moods, "Just two thirteen year olds experimenting. I explained this to you more than a hundred times."
Wonka took off his hat and held it to his side. The one thing that had changed about him was his hair; he had finally grown-out the bangs, and was now sporting a kind of mussed look, "I have something to do somewhere else. The others are arriving tomorrow, and I must get ready."
Avoidance was a lovely art.