It’s one of those things I find fascinating,
The simpleness hidden in a child’s mind,
Of how every scar and tally in a world of revenge
becomes a stroke of story and fairy tale in her head.
It’s one of those secrets that I nestle in the night,
That happy endings are the only real ends
For only the weak close their stories to unfought sorrows.
Even a child knows that ‘happily ever after’ is how you ride into the morrow.
It’s one of those things that inspires me,
How shadows shuffling in the street’s nooks can make us cringe
With the learnt horror of fear, while the child
reaches for the light that’s hidden behind the whinge.
It’s one of those things that I find beautiful,
How lavender skies, blue eyes and timeless smiles of children’s fairy tales
Are made of more life than dark and twisted iron crowns
Of words wrought by the overthinking fingers of adults.