The Sun Child

I thought he was a ghost
with his skin like alabaster
and his hair like corn silk.
He stood in the cold,
outside my door,
when it was still dark,
to remind me of the morning.
"Hello," he said.
And I said it back, for
it was all I knew how to give.
He watched me
while we cut the bread
and drank the coffee with it.
What great, big eyes,
so brilliantly violet, so clear,
as only such a child's eyes can be.
He was as white as snow,
Madame's little Sun Child.