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.