In the beach, I went an evening stroll,
Something hard, I felt under my sole;
I reached and took a round pebble,
And found it to be in deep trouble;
It started to tell it's sad story,
I heard it, I was in no hurry;
It was a child of a great mountain,
Was cradled by the side of a sweet fountain;
Got in love with the rough river,
So travelled along with her lover;
But ditched down in the bed,
Remained there as she was wed;
But then came a whirling storm,
Which changed her entire surly form;
She rolled and rolled,
Her speed, the river couldn't hold;
Got shaped in ups and downs,
Matured by the surrounding clowns;
Atlast she set foot in the vast sea,
Her shackles of life released free;
But, alas she got tangled in a wave of wanting more,
And was washed and set aside on this shore;
Well, I told the stone not to feel heavy,
As this is the story of damsels many;
Threw the pebble into the sea depth,
Not to be again and again swept!