Heart of Stone — A Poem


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.



About Nan Mykel

At 79, I was just about to stop keeping a journal, but that felt like accepting that growth was finished. I don't want to be finished, yet! I'm 80 now, and struggling to communicate with you, if you'll come and set awhile. P.S. My how time flies! I'm 82 now.
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