Death of a Stone

By J. Lynne Moore

In sorrow the stone lays,
Un-moving in the cutting rain.
Greedily, the earth beneath,
Drinks the stone’s sandy pain.

Each chilling drop, a dagger,
Plunging into the stone’s heart;
Carrying away the substance,
Tearing the stone apart.

There once was a time…
When the stone was a bolder, grand.
Mighty and massive, hulking,
Until the rain turned it to sand.

The stone, soon only a pebble,
Washed away in the laughing rain.
Who will remember the stone?
As it softly weeps in vain.

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