The Robin Hood of Rocks
I don’t steal
except maybe pens.
If a pen is in my hand,
it goes in my purse.
I don’t mean to steal it,
it just happens.
But rocks,
I steal them –
nice flat ones
from the landscaping
by Sureway,
smooth and round
from the coffee shop
parking lot.
I paint them
and give them away.
So can’t we say
it’s just borrowing?
5 thoughts on "The Robin Hood of Rocks"
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I relate to this poem concerning both stealing Pens and Rocks! I have pens and rocks from everywhere as well. Love this poem! Thanks!
I too have pens and rocks from everywhere, too!
I grinned at the movement from I don’t steal to except maybe pens to But rocks, I steal…
Well done!
Very thoughtful “confession” Victoria!
This is charming but also quite poetic. You hit bedrock so to speak.
Love this!
Working on a piece about stolen pens.