I knew a pearl lay on the ocean sand,
And, fool that I am, I coveted it.
With my plan half-formed and my heart in hand
I convinced the inky depths to admit
Me to the pure, freshly- fallen-snow calm,
And I stretched out my hand to touch its skin
Joyfully, I pressed it into my palm
Not guessing what misery lay within.
For the pearl’s alias is “Sorrow Stone”,
And, though it sits pretty around my throat,
Ultimately, it will find me alone
No matter how many dreams I rewrote.
I will not dive for treasure anymore,
Content to lie with wood-drift on the shore.
