Two dull grey pebbles carelessly bathing in the afternoon sun
A silent token of a new life, a secret memory, a racing heart?
Butterflies in a tummy, confidences shared, that first kiss?
Fickle hearts will shape their destiny:
Hidden from the sun, ending their days in gloomy confinement; or,
Polished by a lovers remembered touch,
Parading their meaning to all who catch their eye.
The sunlight flickers wistfully, drab and leaden they wait.
Fate, destiny, chance, providence, luck, God (if he exists) ordain their future.
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