She wears a pendant on a chain
A large blue stone; a brilliant gem
The necklace bears a sense of pain
In the memories she has of him
A perfect day that went awry
A perfect plan for love to last
The perfect chance that passed her by
Now relegated to the past.

Each facet of the stone is pure
As clear as that bright winter’s morn
When love was destined to be sure
Until the chance became forlorn
There is no rhyme or sense of reason
Since, for him, her heart still longs
But, their love has not found its season
Buried ‘neath a mound of wrongs.

She wears a stone upon a chain
To keep his memory near, each day
Their love will never be in vain
Even, if parted, both must stay
She asks herself, “What could have been”
Each time his face enters her mind
While holding the grief deep within
The gemstone that their love defined.

© 2007 – Jill Eisnaugle’s Poetry Collection