A pebble
I picked up the pebble and asked where it had been ,
It was pink and black and glasslike and polished by the sea
On the beach at Lulworth, Southern Dorset shore
It should be chalk, or flint or gault, why granite, here. I wondered
The fisherman was helpful, ‘for ballast, times a plundered’
When the ships came empty from Scotland they had to be weighed down
So shovelled rocks from a Scottish beach many miles away
Emptied out and dumped, not wanted any more
At Plymouth, Falmouth, Budleigh Salterton, maybe Exeter Quay
Longshore drift then picked it up, moved it to the East
Washed in the cove to Lulworth to find its resting place
Was it lonely, pining, wanting to be home?
Very clever Richard. You've managed to combine your love of geology, the sea, and one of your favourite places all in one lovely poem! And you teach us something at the same time!
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