I call this poem A Stone of My Own. Read on and see why. I hope you enjoy.
Upon my shelf I have a stone
When young I took it for my own
A piece of limestone that’s in laid
With fossils time and weight have made
Back then I covered it with glue
The white stuff, thought that it would do
To keep it clean and help me see
The creatures trapped inside for me
And now I’m old it has become
A token of my childhood home
It’s come with me through life away
Yet roots me like I meant to stay
In places endless years ago
With trilobites on hills I know