A poem:
An object ignored so often;
inanimate, unwanted, inconsequecial.
Plucked from anominity.
Dull when unoticed, sparkling when admired,
miniscule flecks of light no less mighty than the sky at night.
Smooth to touch, but rugged to the eye.
Memories of holidays, of lakes, of sea,
of chidhood; grey grandparents'
eyes stare up from within. From nothing?
A portal to past moments, an oval time capsule.
The whole world is set in hands.
The ancients were here once,
the mountains and fire spewed and created me,
me; a stone.
forgive my spelling mistakes
Unknown "Bat Man" Cheeky
- 16 years, 12 months ago
