Epitaphs

I spied an oval pebble stone -

snatched it up

and fetched it home;

wrote your name 

upon the dome

that glowed so bright;

as white as bone.



I held it till it warmed one hand

as if with life 

born from the sand. 

I put it down -

it looked too damned

alone, and so



I picked it up, the stone, again,

and on the other side

I wrote my name.

Back at sea, 

I took my aim... I guess

nobody found it, though.



It lies forlorn 

with our sad fame -

died a death, just like my game.

Now we grow old;

will soon be cold -

a story told - forgotten

with apologies

and epitaphs -

our names 

engraved

in stone.