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Pebbles

He called me, "Just another pebble in the stream"
All I could do was laugh, oh! how funny this all seemed
Did he know I was a mountain, up upon the peak?
Withered, away but picked up in a birds beak
Then in a nest I lay, perched in a grand old tree
But from there, oh yes, the whole world I could see
And when the nest frayed out I fell, so long
But from where I stood I could hear the birds song
Until the rain came and washed me away
And then upon the path I lay
Where a child's pudgy fingers picked me up
Squeezed me tight, told me to never give up
And when he skipped me on the waters top
I knew my ripples would never ever stop
So maybe to others it may only seem
But Lord knows I'm not "just another pebble in the stream"

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  1. Date: 12/17/2009 7:38:00 PM

    You will never be "just another pebble in the stream" when you can write like this, Jen. Love the story of the mountain's remains snatched by a bird to see the view from its nest. The ripples you create are a refreshing addition to poetry soup, Jen! Quite a deep write. Merry Christmas! Love, Carolyn