Every weekend at summer camp the
Memories of the midnight walks we made,
The rushing of the silvery creeks
As well as the daily art and games,
Entertainment as well as molding clay,
The mountainside at night gave good
Presence, the moon offering her halo,
With the memory of endless essence so,
During this time of adventurous fun,
A story telling we campers would all go.

Her raspy voice, I can remember well,
Those cute sparkly playful brown eyes,
We walked side by side, she told me that
The truth was being denied, she was a
Girl in disguise, how I dream of her
In Garnet, Alexandrite. That feeling of total trust,
Now I will probably never be close to
Anyone I love again, already grown old,
To old to ever dream, but what a dream,
A lovely bliss to know that she was my friend.

One day, when the time is right, we'll find it,
This feeling again, of wild spirited joy, campfires,
Of following the forest path, now innocence lost,
A time that is long-gone and past, and if it
Never happens again, the darkness of night
With quiet whispering, story time moon light,
I will never forget her, never will I forget that
Beautiful freckled face, those beady eyes,

*No, never forget you, not for all time.

Lighting strikes the sky,
Blissful liquid meets the Soil.
Clouds thunder, winds run fast,
Night darkens,
And he changes his colour.

Ruby, his eyes look like,
full with passion yet brimming with anger.
I shuddered at his looks.
He was the cyclone,
and I was the silent waters.

It was dawn,
enticing orange glitter adorned the sky.
His Ruby slowly changes to emerald.
They were calm and healing.
Like the serene sea,
and I was the ship with smooth sails.

Sand glimmered in the sunlight,
waters sparkled,
waves washed the shores,
leaving behind the trails of past.

He walked ahead,
kept changing his colour.
His aura had a yellowish tint,
He was the beautiful colours,
And I was the canvass.

He had a song,
but incomplete,
I had a wish,
To whisper it back.
We both were mum,
None wanted to speak.

The day ended,
We sitting face to face.
I asked him,
Why he was the change,
And I the constant.

He told me,
He was the World,
And I, the confined me.
Truly, he was the Alexandrite,
And I the diamond.

He doesn’t owe me the very breath I just savored
so I yell at the stars,
“I think He owes me a favor.”
He does not.

Yet, there's mercy.
Even more, there's love,
and still I spit
on jewels wrapped in burlap
I don’t need You.

What more, I plead and bargain
for light to peak through a crack
in the crevice of your soul
that cannot feel, nor love
because precious, precious jewels wrapped in burlap
do not compare to an explorer’s find of Alexandrite
in the cave I call your soul.

A fool, an explorer – one in the same,
there was not one jewel in burlap,
but many.
What imprudence! I still long for
one glimpse of Alexandrite
hoarded under hate and lies,
deception and malice.
What nerve! To demand for
light to leak in caves
that are not mine to reconnoitre.

An explorer is a demitasse
for when she is graced with eternal diamonds
she selects coal instead.