Rock of Africa

Lost in flying colors, in-between wood boards
     like diamonds lost in the smallest of gaps. 

Found after the boards are old decades
     later and pried off the old molted frame. 

Sold once appraised and stripped off
     its heritage and wreathed in
     mystery and folklore and make-believe. 

Initially obtained below high-lo Kilimanjaro,
     forged from death under the
     insurmountable pressures of Africa--
          a rose light gleamed through
          and a shift foreman grinned. 

Upon his return to New York,
     he pulled out a small box to be given to a lady. 

She cried, she cried, as heavily as a child
     to see this rock of Africa seized from blood-let fingers

Years came on and on with the gemstone
     tucked away in a hidden place as
     the lady withered away in the Sun
          and wind and rain. 

When after more years and the house
     was left empty and an earthquake
     shook out the box and
     swept away the rock of Africa. 

And was eventually found again
     when the boards grew old
     and were pried off the old molted frame. 

The rock had not aged but
     shed a skin of dust
     and renewed its rightful majesty.

What do you think? Criticisms and praise welcome.

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