Crystal

Hand of gold stretches out
to touch a rose’s scented petal.
Kissed by dew and now by hand,
it holds out thorns like some sharp nettle.
Beauty it has unbound,
regardless of surrounding around.
Head held high in fragrant air,
sun looks down plentiful there.

Diamonds, rubies, emeralds adorn,
round necks and arms are worn.
Stones that gleam and formate suns,
beauty that startles and stuns.
Stones of glory, stones of death.
Rainbow colours as light passes through.
Evil, good and happiness follows them too.

Waves under the sun shimmer,
like the silvery glint of a flashing scimitar.
People pass each other daily,
never knowing what the other thinks.
Wrapped in dreams of some passed glory,
lives that see no coloured tinsel.
Things they do they are never sorry,
their whole lives trapped within a crystal.

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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