The Stones

26/03/2012 § 21 Comments

I once knew a Blackrock
a place that holds many memories
for the child who
(then)
was me.

Now, I hold a black rock
in my hand.
Jet black and smooth
…just because
Because the feel of its
stone-cold-to-growing
warmth, soothes.

Thoughts drift above
the watermark
and:
Ah, here it comes again.

‘Hello, welcome rain
oh, how I have missed the
magic of your warm, wet kiss
to lips that have thirsted for you
through the months of snow.’

The rock in my hand
leads  to others
all shapes, sizes and each so
vibrant in colour.

I feel their energy flow
and gain pleasure
as my thoughts wander again at will
a gentle trickle with the rain
So aware there is new life now
about to grow
but,
the rarest of all flowers
is still safe inside my heart.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

I have a small pot of stones just like those in the picture.
Sometimes I sit and hold one for a while, just to feel it’s smoothness, texture, think about its flaws and, appreciate its magic.

Shared with With Real Toads OpenLink Monday
Poets United Pantry #94

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