Poetry

---

I hold in my hand
a childhood memory,
the oldest thing I own;
a stone.

Glistening in the sunlight
like the top of a diamond iceberg,
the stone captured sunlight
in a million gleaming facets
and slowed the light
to call to me.

I knelt
on the crust of the earth
in the dingy alley
behind my childhood home
and dug at the half buried stone
that captured the light
and me.

As the sun climbed in the sky
school, teachers, parents, and
all my youthful problems
were completely forgotten.
Only the glistening stone remained.

Even though in only
the first six years
of my life,
I knew it was a mysterious
treasure
One I had to own
be it a meteor, a gemstone,
or the tear from an angel.

I hold in my hand
a piece of my past,
an affirmation of my youth,
a confirmation of my childhood,
a validation of my existence.

A memory freed from the earth
to be lovingly held today
in the shape of a stone
and remembered.

---

PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE