Here's a really old poem

[echoes_s]

Ricochet

A pebble ricocheting into a rusted bowl,
echoing emptily,
scattering senseless turmoil
until it rests wearily
into a notch made
once absentmindedly
Yet it cries as it used to scream.
For this pebble was once a mountain
worn down by insistent grief.
Until this mountain became a boulder
surrounded by family.
Then to a rock the pain did wear,
but life as a pebble was not foreseen.
To be spit by the crevice of a tire,
felled forever to abandoned misery
to a rusted bowl of loneliness.
no longer a memory
edited to say, way back...