To rest. A theater woman. I’ve said no,
But maybe—”
Who was the gold one, listening there
And smiling? Looking over Berrien’s shoulder
And lighting the front room with little smiles?
A faded gold one, well beyond her prime,
But the true substance, glistening. Berrien frowned
And her head shook. But Daniel, fascinated,
Said he would think, would figure.
In the end