The Stone

I don’t know said she to the stone as the tear rolled down the long and lonely road home let me roll over and make myself a home the stone lay silent still as the night the stone lay awake in the middle of the light slowly she told it her story etched with her bare and frail bones She watched it arise to make itself known she glanced at the stone and no longer saw the image of barren gray granite marbled black with many days the space between she and the stone grew thin and cold as she and the stone had become one and very old