HEART OF STONE

One day she wrote a poem

that ended, “Whose face did she

wish 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.