Secrets of the Children

A raspy tune rolled on the tongue
of a carnival ride
summer nights lit in pastel colors
and shooting stars,
they were in her eyes like miracles
on Jesus fingertips.

Drawing breath, chest rising
to fall again
the weight of a thousand roses
in her sigh,
trinkets of silver and gold
are monochrome and still.

Curtains run from floor to ceiling
cheeks a poignant blush
ballerina toes point towards the sky
silent and reaching,
her music box with lid ajar singing soft
the secrets of children.