Just A Rock

On its breast was another rock,
Scattered and tumbled, tugging and watching,
Telling itself a story of the upper region,
At that moment a rock cared for another.

Suddenly the window walked further than
This rock, that someone called a home.
Rush of the water imagined a house
To be built where it lay, and soothed us.

It was indecent inside for the remainder,
Rising and falling according to the taste.
Cheerfully the beautiful people instead
Intended to make war on the rock of ours.