Once a child;
bittersweet curiosity,
nostalgia in a ceramic mug,
an amateur (for the love of it).
Decipherer of wonder,
of code and crypt,
of chicken-scratch penmanship,
rapt in inquiry.

Steel depression,
the cold, the query,
the arch-backed howl.
In the morning, something new,
sweet-smelling and agreeable;
hospitable charm,
sugar browning in a pan,
the high-pitch frenzy of a kettle.

The inevitability of eventuality,
of phenomenon and charm.
The casualty of coincidence,
of time and weapon and
all other man-made poison. 
The unnerving understatement
of ability, of disability,
of shotgun-shattered windows.

Once a child;
alone in the night,
alone in the dark,
sleeping through the tear-stained glass.
The light will always reflect off of
the mirror; you are the light.
Pale with dappled sun,
the lilacs will bloom again.