Letter To Michael Poem by shimon weinroth

Do come over here
Ever so near
I'll whisper in your ear
The secret of my pebble

Smooth and round, rests
Beside the flowng brook
For many a year
Lights up with the sun

Or under the starry night
Or cloudy day, come rain or shine
Hot or cold, summer or winter
He does not move from his place

Among all the other pebbles
Big and small
What makes him so special
Is, that he is mine

To have and to hold or leave him be
I will not pick him up
Put him in my pocket
Take him away from all the others

Each time I visit, he is there
Part of the scene so picture fair
My secret pebble,
Now, is yours, to do as you like