Poetry

A bard’s touch

I took my heart out of its familiar cage and realised

the rose quartz it was carved from had turned clear.

I watered it with food dye and rose petals,

patience and strawberry jam.

It refused to change back.

 

You noticed this distilling and saw my distress,

examining its mineral structure to suggest

things that might return its colour.

 

It worked, but instead of becoming rose,

it morphed permanently from quartz

into the deepest ruby.

The same carat as your heart.