If Only

She wears me each day,
I am fastened gently
to her clothes with delicate fingers.

She admires me,
laughing softly as the light catches
my clasped prison.

Never has she noticed
my eyes sparkling,
though I will her
to do so each time
she stares at her reflection,
or holds me in her soft hands,
scrutinizing my eternity.

I scream at her at times,
in others I weep uncontrollably.

If only she would set me free,
to notice me, I could rest,
in welcome sleep,
but she only smiles
at how pretty my tomb is
and at the casual remarks
of strangers in everyday
who enquire of my origin.

Another lifetime trapped in stone,
if only, if only she would set me free.