A lone Stone

Take a short walk outdoors in your surrounding environment. When you find an object you identify with, write a poem using the image as a metaphor for yourself or your life.

It sits silently on the ground,
Surrounded by many others that are like it.
Sometimes it may cause someone to stumble,
And sometimes it just appears invisible.
Unseen and unnoticed,
It sits without a sense of purpose.
If it could cry out,
What would it say?
If it could run away,
Where would it go?
Nothing. It remains unheard.
Nowhere. It remains dormant.
It sits. It waits. It thinks:
“I am just a stone. Nothing more. Nothing less.
I take up space. I am insignificant. I have no value.”

It hopes a day will come soon:
When a person will take notice of the stone.
When that person will pluck the stone from its bed.
When a person will hold it softly in their grasp,
Knowing that they have found something… special.
When that person will wipe the dirt away,
Revealing something wonderful underneath.
When a person will carry that stone with them,
Fearing they may never find another like it.
When that person will find favor towards that stone,
Because they know, somehow, that it is unique.
When a person will decide to keep that stone close and nearby,
Because, somehow, it has become special to them,
And therefore, never want to part from it.

Some days… I am that stone.
Some days… I am that person.


Copyright © 2012 Andrew Hildreth


About HandHeldWriter

Fiction writer. Vinyl collector. Coffee drinker. Book reader. Music lover. Neat freak. Bookworm. Introvert. Thinker. Poet. ISTJ. View all posts by HandHeldWriter

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