Page 33 of Tiger's Voyage
But the map is faded
The burned edges charred and unreadable
The chest is buried and locked
And the key is missing
The ship drifts alone
The island is gone
How would he find it?
Unearth the precious charms?
The sun kiss’d jewels Lips of sparkling ruby
Golden-brown doubloons of hair
So much it could spill through his hands
Silken fabrics to wrap around soft pearly skin
A maiden blush of Mandarin garnet
Shining topaz eyes that burn and
pierce like fiery diamonds
A perfume—subtle and clean and enticing
A rich man indeed
If he could but find
The X
I’d just finished reading the poem a second time when it was snatched from my hand.
“I thought you hated my poems. Who invited you in here anyway?” Ren spoke sharply but raised his eyebrow and smirked calculatingly as if he was looking forward to another verbal spat.
I replied, “The door was unlocked. I was looking for you.”
“Well, you found me. What do you want? More poems to burn?”
“No. I told you I won’t burn your poems.”
“Good.” Ren glanced at the poem in his hand and relaxed. “Because this is the first one I’ve been able to write since my liberation.”
“Really? Maybe it’s because Phet got rid of the PTSD,” I ventured.
Ren slid the poem into a leather notebook and leaned against the bedpost. “Maybe, but I suspect not.”
“Well, then what got you writing again?”
“Apparently, I have a muse. Nowwhyare you in my room?”
“I wanted to talk with you. Clear the air.”
