Gift of Rocks

A Poem by Angela Devlin

I love my gift of rocks,
little samples of earth
bonded together to form
a perfect pocket-sized marvel.

How is it, though,
that I can search and search,
you barely glance,
yet you always find
the beautiful ones?
But maybe that's how
it's supposed to be-
maybe they are the best,
the most beautiful,
because it was your eyes
that met them first.
Your hand might be
the first hand that has
ever warmed them.
It made them beautiful I bet.
Love might have made them beautiful.