Piles of stones

There was a pile of stones
by the river's brim
and only a pile of stones
it was to me.

The stones stood still
one over the other
carefully molded
by the river's waters;
incessantly rolling
down the mountain's side,
their movement frozen,
piled on one another
stopped in time.

There's a pair of boys

by the river's brim

and only a pair of boys

they are to me.

They pile the stones

they play, they live,

I hear them laughing from a distance:

they sleep at last

they rest content.

The day is over

and night has come.

There's a pile of stones

by the river's brim.

a Brian Kenny