In her dreams
She calls her other daughter Topaz
Because she’s warm, exotic, musky
And very precious

Thousands of restless sleepers
Dream of Topaz
Of Sapphire, of Emerald, of Diamond
Shadows of precious gems
More priceless and unobtainable
With every year that goes past

It’s not about blame
Choice is sometimes just
An empty box

But every solution has it’s price
How high this one?
I can’t tell you, unless you know
If you know, it’s too late

In her dreams
God says, Topaz
That’s a pretty name
Come and sit next to me

Only it’s not a dream
It’s a prayer.

by Nicolette Turner

Other poems of TURNER (13)

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