I am crushed to be useful, broken down to build, I line garden paths where the water is spilled. I crunch under tires and rattle under feet, A millions tiny stones lying out in the street.

I capture light to record a scene, While you line up the shot through viewfinder or screen.

Found on the ground till is sound a interesting beat

Rock a bye baby not on a treetop, if you are I put you in this first. Gently cooing so your discomfort stops. Goodnight is warmly, quietly said as consciousness drifts from the baby in the…

A gift wears me like a crown on its head, spilling into curls of blue, gold, or red.