Undefined, no purpose at all.
From the ground,
into our shoes.
So small and unprepared
For the large world that
we take for granted.
How they are made
we do not know.
We walk them over
like the young and the poor.
They get used for
the hardship of work.
Overlooked and mysterious,
The stones.
We don’t understand,
they control the way
that things are done.
You may not know,
yet they happen from
Big to small.
-
Author:
Alfred Lord Tennyson (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 23rd, 2018 07:04
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
Offline)
Comments1
I have a bot of a fascination with pebbles so I liked this poem... I wrote a poem about pebbles once.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.