Heart on a chain (a prose poem)
I wear my heart upon a chain
and not upon my sleeve.
It hangs around my neck
and warms against my skin.
The silver’s wearing thin,
Base metal showing through.
In some light it looks like gold,
But don’t be fooled:
It’s made of sterner stuff.
The tarnished scrapes and scars
That cover its moonlight skin
Would have gouged all gold to nought.
Don’t be misled; it hides magic still
Deeper than a shiny golden core.
A tiny shake is all it needs
To draw the magic out,
Enchanting as faerie bells
As soft as baby’s lullaby,
A melodious chiming sound.
It might be made of worthless brass
Once the silver’s worn away
But the song it can sing
Might move a heart of stone to tears.