Pebble
This pebble pounded by incessant seas
Lies smooth and satisfying in my hand,
So cool and comforting, it aims to please.
Deep in my pocket, far from sea and sand,
Its ovoid shape fits snugly in my palm.
I feel its surface – pink with orange band –
Its age and weight convey a sense of calm
Whilst through the weekend shoppers I would plough
In search of solace, found in Nature’s charm.
The tang of salt and sea is with me now :
The spirit of this ancient piece of stone,
Although I sit beneath this oaken bough.
This three ounce weight – a time machine, alone,
Aeon-enduring, outlives mere flesh and bone.
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