Ametisto

the stone
in his hand
is pure
purple
magic

he tells me stories
of its birthplace
spanish flowers
in the mountains
women dancing
in folk dress

and i can feel
something
growing
as the purple
rests on
my chest
for the first time

because a necklace
is never just a necklace
but a whisper
of a promise
planted softly
on bare skin


This poem was written about a piece of jewelery created by Joyeria Ramos.