HEART OF STONE
One day she wrote a poem
that ended, “Whose face did I
want to see?”
She wrote that, and reading it
realized there was no face
that she longed to see. Her heart
had hardened into stone.
O she admired some folks
and pitied others, but the
bubbling warmth of the inner
fire had turned to stone and in
its place were traces of ashes.
