Triptych

They lay in wait
Shrouded in secrecy
Lurking beneath my bed

Handed down to me
With cold hands and a distant heart

Do they speak to me in a language I understand?
Barren landscapes beneath a desolate sky
Or perhaps fertile lands filled with promise, laid bare beneath an honest expanse of blue
I suppose it depends on one's angle
One's mood
One's memories

And so they wait
Cocooned within rags
Waiting to become someone else's talisman
Their treasured heirloom