This is a poem that I wrote when I was separating from Holly’s Mother, and I was interested and impressed with how much she had to survive at the very young age of three or four. My younger daughter Holly lost her husband on October 1, to a motorcycle accident. She asked me to post this poem again. 

Holly lives amongst the rocks
as only Holly can
down this stream
that grows moss between our toes
her pebble feet covered by
granite self
tumbling along the stream
tossed and turned
grey granite self
speckled with
black sparkle life
down the stream
Holly pebble
toward the ocean

Stephen Brown
October 2017