by Sarah Earlene Shere, ©2025
(Apr. 11, 2025) — Shutters fly like open doors,
With magic dust the child soars,
Into worlds unseen by man,
To the tune from pipes of pan.
Here the child’s safe and sound,
Leaving cares upon the ground.
A twinkle comes into the eye,
Like a star up in the sky.
Fly, my child, take my heart,
Where fear is gone and joy won’t part.
I’ll blow a kiss and wish you well,
And wait to hear the tales you’ll tell.