Stones I sell, I sell stones
Each with magical powers
A crystal, a geode you may expect
But none of those are ours
Granite here and sandstone too
Unpolished quartz, we have a few
All closely held, all closely worn
Sometimes we see a little scorn
It cannot be a magic stone
When it is found and isn’t grown
They look for jewels, trinkets all
And that is where their logic falls
This quartz was lucky to a man
Who now owns a company in Japan
This granite chunk was precious to
A president, I’ll say not who
Each of them holds within
A power to make witches grin
A power they had and they retain
A power to make all new again
What do we call this magic, then?
It’s called BELIEF, and there all ends.
September 4, 2019
From “I Sell Stones” by Anonymous
Posted by alexp01 under Excerpt | Tags: fiction, story |Leave a Comment
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