this is simon the rock
his head made of granite and his body of slate and his eyes small pits of sod
left in the dirt, the rain, and sun he gave off the smell of cod
Though days of the worst no sun in the sky simon would stare and sit
a hint of a smile stretched ear to ear. Sorrow? Not even a bit
he could see the other children in the school nearby as he closed his eyes to dream
of being with them or playing with them perhaps be skipped down the stream
as the day turned to night and the smell of rain grew, simon watched and waited
Something was going to happen, he knew, he highly anticipated
a heavy wind blew, the trees shook but simon didn't give it a glance
Was this the time to fulfill his dream? Maybe this was his chance
With a pull and a twist he rolled onto the road his smile dotted with creases
But as a car drove by and crushed him up he was nothing more than a few pieces
Now this is simon the rock
His head was of granite his body once black and greyish slate
And his small pit eyes had but one small tear to tell his lonely fate
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