Wayne Lysobey
He poured himself into it
With the best of his lapidary art
Growing facets from the rough
And the stone it did sparkle blue
Since childhood he had cut stones
But none so consumed his focus
Intent hours and intent days
And it did sparkle blue
There was only the lapidary
View narrowed to the stone
Deep blue hard YAG rare synthetic
And it did sparkle blue
Polished flats one by one
Strived mirrored perfections
Dispersion colors flashing
And the stone it did sparkle blue
And craft worked the stone
And art formed its shape
And love brought forth its beauty
And how it did sparkle blue
In shiny gold it was mounted
With golden chain round a mother’s neck
On her 84th year it was hung
And it does sparkle blue still