The Secret

Cheshire cat moon grins at my room
Through the cricket-filled night
For he knows my secret.

It is precious and small
Like a Byzantine relic
And far warmer than saints bones.

I treasure it, savor it fully,
For I know it shall dissolve
With the fleetness of time turning.

Yet I shall wear my pearl for a season,
Admiring it’s golden luster
And not dwell on my vinegary imperfections.