The Little Gray Rocks

by: Shirley Satterfield

The Little Gray Rocks 🪨

I am a gray rock
In a quarry full of little stones.
We stand together alone,
All invisible, for not to be mocked.
For gray rocks are silent things,
They do not speak
When they think deep.
They are just the bedrock of the meek.
The pocket stones kings fling.

We are the little rocks,
Quite invisible, yet not to be mocked.
Invisible to the naked eye,
Those stoney ones who refuse to cry.