Black is beautiful 

When I tore lose from the mountain
and fell into the river. I was a rough
stone, offended other stones as I lacked
manners and appeared gruff 
Now, however, I'm smooth, oblong and
black, feels no shame stating I'm masculine
different from the shed gray other stones
I share the riverbed with 
spring is when ice melts on the mountain
and I'm pushed along until I am an attractive
black stone on a creamy white beach
I'm worried about being stuck where
the river is shallow; a boy might find me
picks me up and put me on the widow sill 
in his room and forget me until his mum
throws me out with rusty nails, toys, and batteries
I will never feel the sea washing over me
and look hansom on a golden beach