Pebbles are always thirsty
- I can tell this
by the way they drink the rain.
Theirs is a thirst for vanity:
a beach full of rain worshipers,
all competing to be the shiniest
but beauty such as this
is very fleeting.
Tides brush over them daily
like a temporary varnish
to fool them of their worth.
Precious as they think they are
each one aims to shine the longest,
hoping to be spotted
before the spell is broken,
taken home in someone's pocket.
But oh, the disappointment!
Pebble looks so different now:
dull and rougher than remembered.
The treasure hunter feels fooled
and throws the unattractive stone.
It whooshes through the air,
lands somewhere in his garden;
submerged in soil and then forgotten.