Nostalgia
These stones remember when they were lava.
Remember when they were molten hot
and glowed orange. The other rocks
could only sit in heaps nearby and be warmed
by their curving grace and the brush of their fluid moves,
finding solace only in ancient dreams
in which they too, were lava.
These stones recall the raptors
who prowled and scrapped and danced
between the thick branches of their rivers
before leaving bones behind. There was a time
when these stones flowed past, invincible.
Who could hold such radiant streams?
Now pressed hard, contained in their solidity,
each squats in the gritty pile, cooled and gray,
keeping secret the fiery spark within.
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Submission Name: Nostalgia of Rocks
