Photo by Oliver Paaske on Unsplash

He brought them to me

small presents wrapped

in leftover paper

or, brown bags he

put his lunch in, refused

to throw away.

He picked them up

along his day

rocks, pebbles, pieces of glass,

diverse shapes and colors

reminders of childhood stories we shared.

We were adventurers

searching the creeks, ponds, trails, land

surrounding our homes

for the most beautiful ones.

Wearing Rubies

Garnets, Mica, Quartz

we came home proud of

our finds, treasures and laid them out

side by side, row after row

to display for friends, family

in hopes they would understand our need,

identical lust for rocks,

but no one could….

until we found each other.

He brought them to me

pointing out their unique features

rubbing his strong fingers, over their grooves and hollows

marking them with his scent

proud, so proud.

And then

he would kiss me, as if to say:

For the little girl I wish I had known

long before

she became a woman.

He brought them home to me

tokens of his appreciation, remnants of old needs

a child still, he was

giving rocks for love.

(Written March 2006)