Stolen alchemy

Soft stone pressed in my palm
as a promise of calla lillies,
laced from our loam.
So calm, secure
the rock solid promise
lulls me -
I oblige;
opening for a pebble, my poem.
Lush oval warmth
becoming known, treasure,
a secret tucked in my center
ardently attesting you're not alone.

Til with obdurate pain,
having struck a ring of my own
(inscribed cold cobble of
father's memory, an
ancient artifact, dressed
deceptive in marital gold)
from the stone,
not a word.

And through fear's alchemy
the pebble freezes, fractures,
transmutes to air.
Silently attesting
the lost promise of carmot.

And I'm alone.