Through the glass pane, a shadow plays a game.
It dances, twirls, but never speaks a name.
In the quiet colors of morning bright,
Gentle whispers drift in the dream's flight.
Kids can see the fairy, the giant's shoe,
Riding on whispers of sky so blue.
Adults just see windows, reflections of mind,
Sometimes, we’re a silhouette they can't find.
If clouds are soft, can you sit on one?
Silhouettes ask, where does raindrop run?
Secrets of glass, fragile and sly,
Only the child’s heart knows why.