I hold your memory
as a choice pebble;
found after a
long day's search.

Not to cast it
away in a moment.
But rather clasped
in my hand,
so I can
gaze upon
its perfection.

I roll it around
against my palm.
Pondering its
Intricacies.
Marvelling at
the way it
shines when
the sun strikes.

Only to think
to myself
how lucky
I am
to have found
it first.