Faces in time…

Staring at a stone, it really was not a stone or a rock. A face of two or three was looking at me. Shine stone of walls made of pain. Your rock made it rain while I was in pain.

Jumping around my beautiful stone, she shook the earth all alone. Flipping and jumping she gathered leaves for her tree to bare. Hiding the sky from her eye, all the while she made me smile in to her vile glare.

She seemed to choke while turning in to a boat, you found a moat and cleared your throat only just for three. As I gazed and she raised her beautiful soul stood dazed.

As time passed on we found her again and again, what we thought was a stone turned out to be a bone, a bone of the golden dome.

Needless to say a rock with no name is just living for another day…

a reply to: JJproductions

Very nice..a sort of poetry that has to be thought about!

a reply to: midicon

Thank you midicon for reading! Yes it’s hard to live like a rock!

a reply to: JJproductions

This leaves me between a rock and a hard place, JJ. I feel melancholic nostalgia, but tinged with anger.

a reply to: Encia22

Yes is more on the last of our lives! Thank you for reading this!