Walking through the forest route
I use to pick up stones, pointy as well as smooth
Stacked them in an infinte jar of memories
With every stone, sharing stories

My precious were of different colours
But it all looked the same to others
For my dreams, the jar was a shrine
Every stone was a memory my heart coudnt confine

Throughout my everyday walk
I searched for that special rock
Pearl, ruby, topaz or emerald
But the one not meant to be hurled

Little did I know about moments passing by
It's after everything when gone, we cry
Images flashing and nostalgia striking
Stones from my jar began smiling

Every stone was a special one
Reminding memories of someone
Childhood, youth ,adulthood
My jar contained everything it could

Life is a regret of letting go of some stones
Tinier than the memory it owns
All I need is a pool of such stones to dive
To bring my dead forgotten dreams alive