Saturnine Gray Poem by Jeff Siegel

When the sun escapes the heavens grasp,
And the day that flew now seems to lapse,
When clouds that billowed now stretch and fray,
It is then my world turns Saturnine Gray.

It was in a time when love was blind,
And the words she spoke were lilting and gay.
When the world was alive with color and rhyme,
And nobody knew of Saturnine Gray.

Everyday I would dream of her love,
While sitting on the planks of the quay.
Of her cascading hair, and soft brown eyes,
And skin that envied the golden sun's ray.

Such was the beauty of my hearts dismay,
Such ws the beauty of Gabriella del Rey.
The beautiful, beautiful Gabriella del Rey.

The shallow attempts to talk to her,
Would have my tongue held at bay,
And every night I'd pray for strength
That tomorrow would be the day.
That I would awake with a lions heart,
And take her breath away.
Then slay these demons that haunt my deams,
And cloud my eyes with Saturnine Gray.

But such sweet reverries could never be real.
For a timid heart is slow to heal,
And time, the culprit, is eager to steal
All visions of happiness, and a liftetime of zeal.

And so I watch as my dream walks away,
Then struggle inside with something to say.
But just as I might,
Her image fades from my sight,
And I am left with the wind and salted sea spray.

II

He moved like water, he made not a sound.
A shadowless figure that came into town.
And no one approached him or questioned his stay,
A menacing figure with jaundicing eyes,
And skin the color of Saturnine Gray.

His face was known to no one,
But his presense was felt by all.
And in the mind of the spiteful and kind
An image came to call.
An image of dread, an image of strife
Felt by all who lost someone near.
A first born son, an ailing wife,
A commrade in arms left dying in fear.

And now he waits without worry,
And speaks without say,
In his room above the dimly lit bay.
Then whispers the name
Of the soul he must claim,
The name of Gabriella del Rey.
The beautifull, beautiful, Gabriella del Rey.

III

The fog and sun rose as one
As a tawny hue began my day.
And from the casement of my room,
Peering through the mist and gloom,
An ominous figure stood waiting,
Waiting for his prey.

And though his face you could not see,
A feeling of unrest came over me,
For how he stood is what chilled me the most.
With his cloakened shoulders, and pallored skin,
To view his image was like that of a ghost.

Just as I broke from my reverrie,
A phantasm of angles sprang up from the sea.
With a helix of movements, they fluttered and played,
And rained an aurora of colors down on the awakening bay.

Undaunted by the colorful display,
The enigma stood silent between oxen and dray.
'Can no one see him? ' I mused
In the midst of the morning ballet.
But alone he stood invisible to all
Silent in tapestry of the bustling day.

But before an answer could respond,
His posture shifted, and looked beyond
The crowd of people that started their day.
And settled his stare
On the town's maiden fare,
The one they call Gabriella del Rey.
The beautiful, beautiful Gabriella del Rey.

With a curse and some prayers
I ran down the stairs
And opened the door that shielded the day.
Then scoured the crowd
And cried out aloud
The name of Gabriella del Rey.

The fog had started a portentous rise,
and engulfed the sun in a brackish sigh.
And the gulls and terns that once dotted the sky
Stood grounded and silent, too fearful to fly.

The crowd grew thick as I jostled my way,
When at last I spied Gabriella del Rey.
Then came the horror that turned my blood into clay.
And submerged a world of brilliance
Into pockets of shadows called Saturnine Gray.

IV

The years have rolled by like a silent white carriage.
And the attar in the breeze
That once blended with ease
Now seem faint, and severed from marriage.
And the eddies that dance and collide with the quay
Are as vivid and murky as the events of that day.
And in my breast pocket, so tattered and frayed,
A swatch of cloth that for years has been saved.
Torn from the spector that took the life of Gabriella del Rey.

A spector whose skin writhed with the lives
of the old, young, sick and the fey.
Now houses the soul of the one I extol,
The soul of Garbriella del Rey.
The beautiful, beautiful Garriella del Rey.

So now my time has come, though no spector I see,
As my days on earth darken like a chiaroscuro sea.
But the seasons have no answers,
And the wind only echos and brays.
Scourned is my mind with visions and signs,
In a language of whispers called Saturnine Gray.