Carat

In the hush of the jeweller’s bench,
a single carat holds its breath—
a speck of light, a measured weight,
where purity is counted in twenty‑four.

Twenty‑four carats gleam with untarnished fire,
each fraction a story of labour and time,
from the deep earth’s secret to the artisan’s hand,
the carat bridges dream and substance alike.

When gold is alloyed, the carat drops,
a quiet arithmetic of hue and strength,
nineteen‑carat rose blushes with copper’s warmth,
fourteen‑carat white whispers with palladium’s grace.

Beyond the metal, the gemstone’s carat speaks,
a feather‑light gauge of brilliance and fire,
each point a fragment of captured starlight,
each weight a promise of enduring allure.

So let us treasure the carat, not merely as measure,
but as the quiet pulse that beats beneath sparkle,
the British‑spun standard that turns ordinary ore
into heirlooms that outlast the fleeting hour.