The Secret Life of Crayons

Of all the world’s mysteries
that stretch across the eons,
is one that mystifies me most -
the secret life of crayons.

They seem so simple lying there
or in a tiny fist,
drawing up a family
or wishful Christmas list.

But when the stars are shining down
and dreams drift trough our heads,
they peek from boxes, desks and drawers
and tiptoe past our beds.

Black and Grey take to the streets
and Yellow, just a little,
takes their hands and leaps and skates
precisely down the middle.

Brown and Umber climb the trees
and swing down from the boughs;
Sienna strolls along a fence,
counting all the cows.

Lime and Mint and Forest Green
play tag across the lawns,
over bushes, leaf to leaf –
the secret life of crayons.

Pink and Purple, Goldenrod,
they stop to smell the blooms;
Plum and Melon, Yellow-Orange
thread flowerbeds like looms.

Silver, Gold and Navy Blue
take long walks in the city,
until the buildings, cars and trains
are shimmering and pretty.

White, she disappears alone
with precious few selections;
she whispers from behind the moon
and kisses its reflections.

Sky Blue and Sand meet up with Tan
and fill the cracks and crannies,
while Lavender and Burgundy
check in on gramps and grannies.

Cerulean and Salmon leap
through Periwinkle skies,
and all the others tumble home
with giggles and goodbyes.

Few have ever seen them, true,
and fewer still admit it,
that morning always seems so bright
because the crayons did it.

They scamper back into their place
as we stir in our yawns,
never guessing that there is
a secret life of crayons.