Poetry >THE ROCK
Amber Contreras
THE ROCK
Even such a small rock can make ripples.
They seem to grow forever.
The waves can crash violently,
The wind can blow strongly,
But the ripples never truly die;
They simply fade away in the shadow
That the sunbeams create.
The reflection of the sun can blind
And try to wipe away the memory
But soft thoughts of what was once visible remains.
And more rocks will be thrown
To reenact the very first time.
That tiny little rock that meant little,
Still exists to this day.
It's at the bottom of the river's floor.