Floating Opals

by
  
by Mike Smetzer 
 
***************
 
Little flames play against the old lady’s neck,
turning before the darkness of her dress,
as she waits in line for his viewing.
 
She fingers the white ghosts,
which rise in a slow timeless tumbling,
swirling past each other in their crystal sphere.
They fade into translucence, to turn
and reappear in fire or dead white stone.
 
Iridescent bursts of pinks and greens and blues.
A universe sealed in her miniature globe,
an eternity at the base of her withered neck.
 
(first published in The Innisfree Poetry Journal)
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