Dad's Rocks

by Josiah Koppenhaver


It was nothing
when I was younger
for my Dad to give me a rock,

all kinds of rocks,
whatever caught his eye.
He would pick it up and show me it.

If I liked it I'd keep it.
If I didn't like it, I'd throw it.
He didn't care; He taught me how to throw.

As we went down the road or
walked through trails,
there would be a time that he'd find a rock.

These times when he'd find one,
would be a memorable time.
Everything would just freeze in that moment.

I'd look it over and ponder
what an odd thing, but
I would take delight
in the rock we found.

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