Strung starlight and moonbeams

The metal curves around the stone,
Like fingers around a wrung neck.

The colour leeched from the cold metal
Like an apple drained of juice.

The shine on it, sparkling gently.
Is like the last rays of the sun before dark.

You can pretend to hear music trapped inside,
Voices and conversations are hidden within.

Having withstood crying and shouting,
Our friendship can too.

Breaking over and over,
Water over stone, stronger and willing to stand strong.

My necklace of strung starlight and moonbeams is as strong as the dwarves under the mountain.
And so am I.