Rounded Over

Out of the river bed of life, my mother's womb
I jutted up, hard, rocky, unrepentant
Black and gray in summer, cold in winter
I stood my ground and the river gave me space
The water danced around my uneven ways
Splashing, waving in patterns, eroding my sandy mind
I never expected to be rounded and diminished
I never expected to grow old
Now the river washes over me
It sculpted a pebble that the water ignores
I am a part of the sandy bottom, awaiting
The next mountain to arise in the current
There is peace in the river bed, a solitude of quiet
Life erases all strife

(c) M H Pitcher