Festooning the Bower

Picked up a rock on the beach today.
Striped minerals caught the light,
colours darting in and out of its surface.
For a moment, I saw you
bringing home rocks, happy about our treasure,
a weight in my pocket, then
catching the light on the drive home,
flashing between our seats.

It’s still the same, really.
You don’t bring them inside, of course.
You don’t point out how beautiful they are.
You don’t add to our collection when we go to the beach.
‘We’ don’t go, anymore.

But they still weigh me down.

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