Spanish Rock

One day to lay down

be a passive rock

in time

allow moss to explore

and cling - a beard of sorts.

Tiny moss hands

find holds

in crevices and thoughts

whisper

secrets into dreams.

One day in time

to soak up eternal sunshine

like the rock

heat penetrates

blocks the doubt.

To find the silent song

so strong

all ears can hear

and decide

to pay it no heed.

One day to be a wall

a spine, a gated arch where hands

your hands

might linger, touch, remember

the fields once rested in.