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.