Stepping Stone

Stepping Stone
By Lora Wood

Battered bruised, worse for the wear
And still they keep stepping
While the stone goes nowhere

Do they ever think about that little stone?
That keeps their feet dry and
Guides their way home

Does the stone ever wonder
Why it must stay?
Why it is here day after day?

Does it watch as they pass
And treat it this way?
Does it really care at the end of the day?

Made up of pieces
Concrete and glass
Beauty and Strength
A mix made to last

Though tired and crumbled
From all of the weight
Stepped on and sunkin
Still it must stay

I wonder what would happen
if the stone moved away
Would they notice at all?
Would they still walk that way?

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