The forgotten joys of the child within

The Secret child
Now wanders through the hidden passages and secret attics of my mind,
Trying to find a window to let in the sunshine of childish joys.
A window
Hinges rusted with tears.
Frames mildewed with hurt.
No way of opening it?
He touches it.
The child hears the echoes of a whispered prayer
The window creaks,
Cries.
Opens.
And now life and love
Shines In.