My Rock

I lean in close and take a whiff
And I can still smell the sharp tang
Of the salt beneath the cliff.

Try as I might I can't shake the sand
That's pinched between my toes and stuck to my hand.
That's where I found it, dug in the dirt
Like the threads of fate woven into my skirt. I pick up the rock, so smooth, so hard
And I trace the lines, I trace the scars.
I bring it home with me, back to my house. In the urban place. The one with no stars.

Little did I know, that's the last time I'd be there.
So I hold it close, and remember the sea there.
And on my rock, that I carry everywhere,
I write on the edge,
In ink of black
One day, I'll be back.