The StonesA Poem by Bandit WordsingThe Stones I roam the streets kicking an ugly, rough pebble I hear a soft tap The pebble has hit a sparkling rock that I kick
instead I continue on until another tap is sounded It has bumped a smooth stone no bigger than my thumb I begin kicking the smooth stone instead Then the thought appears Which stone am I? © 2012 Bandit Wordsing |
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Added on May 15, 2012 Last Updated on May 15, 2012 Author
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