I wrote this poem whilst sitting on the beach at Kimmeridge. My children were fossil hunting and I got to thinking about rocks and stones and pebbles.

Kimmeridge 22 8 2006

All these stones are broken
Each with a story
Each a tale to tell.
Smashed into small fragments now.
Only a half echo of truth
Nothing to guide you by
Nothing to give any real clue
to your origin
to your true species.

We are kind of the same
Splintered with sharp edges.
Either way we will be swallowed
by a cold sea.
A tide to wash us down
to icy depths
to rub against each other and become
smooth new creatures
our old endings rubbed off
returning to the surface with new stories to tell.

Poetry by StrandedPoet
Read 368 times
Written on 2006-08-25 at 22:32

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