Fix

An empty bag presents a change
where things transfixed are rearranged.

The color’s changing all the wall,
(Not long ago he took it all).

Lights trap into his colored eyes;
he stands transfixed on uttered lies.

The light that shines beyond his face
is all a fix that is the place,

where pretend beings all come alive,
to glisten, and to play, and thrive;

where laughing kings all dress in pink,
and lady bugs have much to think.

(Here, shining through the morning dew
The rainbows lie all in and through.)

And then to match the colored hues
he writes away his singing muse.

Now in his grip’s the empty bag;
My, what a mighty trip he had.