Fragments

Are there secrets in
there? Ones made out of blue,
yes, those are the ones
I am looking for.

Where are you keeping
them? I must know,
please, before my time
is gone.

(Strings of pearls
and visions
of fresh summer's sky dance
across my mind, although
autumn leaves drift
down from filtered gold
light and chilled wind.)

And there was gold, wasn't
there? Oh yes, there was gold. I
cannot remember where, but
it was there, this I know.

(A shadowed room, with
a slight breeze
rolling through. Rough sage
voices, deep gray sighs,
and little murmurs unheard by
the Sun, but bright enough
for the moon to see
your thin frame reflected
in the stars.)

Yes, Grandfather, there are
secrets in there.
But they are not blue. No,
these are black. Like the
stage when the lights
go down, where ghosts haunt the thick red curtains. They
will never let me forget.

And you will never know,
as you will soon
be gone.