Kaleidoscope

The beads whisper ssshhhh as they shift,

tumbling over and into each other like waves.

A child laughs in wonder at the brilliance

the beauty formed

from cheap glass beads and a paper tube

Turning, turning, turning

until the patterns become muted

by the loss of novelty.

There's a sad longing in knowing

How impossibly long it would take

To see that same first pattern again

But that wouldn't matter,

as the child cannot recall just what it looked like -

They just turn the Kaleidoscope,

knowing the pattern is never the same.