i have a pebble
smooth and brown
with a sheen
but unpolished
it sits secure
in the palm of my hand

we went to the garden
just the two of us
i carried a spade
and the ashes
the day was fair
and no breeze blew
my father made
this sheltered space
down among the roses
and here i dug the heavy earth
no marker for this grave
i picked up a pebble
held it
a secret no-one shared
we said a few words
we stood in silence
my mother turned away

i have a pebble
smooth and brown
with a sheen
but unpolished
it sits secure
warmed in the palm of my hand

small
significant
so easily lost