I remember a girl,
An acquaintance,
She received a locket for her twentieth,
A gift from her ailing mother,
And from her grandma before her,
Passed down through generations,
Women across the centuries,
Like a relic of Salem witches,

A silver ravens skull holding a crescent,
Amethysts set into its eyes,
Into this token of quicksilver,
She fused all of her hopes,
All of her dreams,
Infused in her most lonesome nights,
They blended with the dreams of her foremothers,
A gossamer tether through the ages,

I do wonder,
When and if the time comes,
Will she too bequeath it to a daughter?
Add a new link to the chain,
I would hope so,
It’d be a shame for this feminine connection to end,
For the locket to be lost,
Forgotten in the mists.

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