Once on a day, as I was out walking,
I came upon a rock, and we commenced talking.
Dirty and rough, hardly worth taking,
Listened so well, kinship in the making.
Just a little girl and a little rock,
Time passing; tick-tock, tick-tock.
I carried the rock everywhere; silly it seems,
Fancy wrapped up in a rock with no wings.
The rock got wet when it rained and cold when it snowed.
The rock always stayed, despite how the wind blowed.
Days melted into years. Though I never gave it care,
the rock grew on me, shiny from constant wear.
Little brown rock, my constant friend,
in my pocket till the end.