stopping with my right foot,
bending against the weight of the wind,
I pick up the chocolate brown rock
resting in a pile of his friends.
all multicolored, a sundry display of colors
I clutch him in my hand and stand
but the multicolored display looks the same
without the one rock,
the pile appears as it did before
but only to me, I know it is different.
only do i know
that one has left his home.
stepping aside, and resting against an oak
i see a passerby
kneel over the rocks, scratch his head
and slowly walk away.
Comments
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Clever title. this is a neat poem. it reminds me of the book 1984.
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