She was made of rock,
had a massive stride,
a stone ship lurching into dock,
lumbering down the mountainside.
She had a massive stride:
showers of pebbles flew up as she went,
lumbering down the mountainside
on her unstoppable descent.
Showers of pebbles flew up as she went
unseeing – blinded by rage, I thought,
on her unstoppable descent
– or was she just distraught?
That was it, not anger, as I’d thought.
I could see, by the shaking of her shoulders
she was blinded by tears, distraught.
She came to rest by a boulder;
I saw, by the shaking of her shoulders
how easily rock can stumble.
She came to rest by a boulder.
Love leads us all to crumble.
How easily rock can stumble!
And she was made of rock.
Love caused her to crumble,
a stone ship lurching into dock.