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Stones polished

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This post was recognized by Amarok!

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Princess Melon was awarded the badge 'Great Content' and 10 points.

Why am I always the rock?
When is it my turn to be an ever flowing river?
When is it the time for me to roll down into someone's lap melting out of existence?
For what am I but a smoothed down stone, marks eroded by waterfalls of history, coarse bearded rivers and wound up in pools alone, with polished yet unremarkable pebbles
Worn away into a beautiful nothing, overtaken by the detritus 
But always seen for beauty 
When is it my turn to open myself like
the waves?

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