You Rock My World

It’s common to romanticize what’s old,
For reasons I can hardly understand.
It now occurs to me we may get sold
Nostalgia when we buy a wedding band.
Those gems are merely nature’s pretty rocks.
We also wax romantic with the moon,
Itself a giant stone with lots of pocks
Yet found in countless lovers’ odes and tunes.
It’s fair to say the moon’s our biggest gem,
Since planets never had that kind of sway.
Some troglodytic passion works for them,
As if the Stone Age never went away.
(I marvel at the prehistoric bard
Who tied true love to something cold and hard.)