A Pebble

inanimate,
the pebble is just perfect for me.
it does not feel, it has no color of the sun or any flower.
it is steady, and numb
and stays just where it is unless moved
by the force of a hand or of the surging water
it feels nothing
and looks dignified
you look at it
and it stares at you.
when it is thrown
away, it does not come
back.
and there it is, always, saying nothing.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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