Sphere of Memory

Smooth surface with jagged memories,
Shining dull under the blue silk
That ran over it.
Grey like the clouds in the sky,
Speckled with dots of earth,
And forever rooted on the spot.
Worn down by fingers of liquid and fingers of hands,
Heavy in matter,
Light in happiness.
Cold against my skin,
And warm in my mind.
Each day I dream
Of that sphere of memory,
Rooted in me, yet a solid object,
Able to be damaged and taken.
Sitting, unable to move,
Yet as free as the wind itself.
I throw, hurling my stone back
Into the sea,
Watching it skip and sink.