I Could be Stone
I could be stone,
hard and crusty, needing no home;
but I would be of sand
and wear away,
wind spreading me over the land.
Still better to be of quartz,
cast in the fires of the earth
laced with precious gold,
sought after,
shiny, never growing old.
Serpentine would serve me well,
cooled at depth in the oceans,
silky smooth, an earthy green;
magma and water,
forever bonded without seam.
Or granite I would welcome,
millions of years in the making,
hard and glinty and strong,
resisting the world
and it’s attempts to deform.
Best though, would to be dirt
right there in sight,a child's delight,
collecting the essences
of all things we were,
waiting to be stone again.