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.