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
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