Monday, 8 January 2018

A Secret

by Regina O'Melveny


My friend says fondly,

that little boy’s got a secret
after seeing his smile
in the photo.
The impish
innocent babe.

Yet how do we know
a child is innocent
or impish?
Isn’t it our own
image flung out
on another,
in love, desire or
apprehension?

How to ever
truly sense
another. And yet
I see it in
the ruffled plumes
of his red hair,
the dashing glint in
his gem blue eyes,
his smile disarming.

This little boy
has a secret
that may take his whole
life to divulge.
And we’ll be listening.
Oh yes, I’ll listen
as long as I can,
even through
the times
when I get in the way.

I’ll tip my ear
and forget myself.
And the secret
will slip by me
holy and sweet
as a baby’s breath.