Boulder,
You are my rock.
I named you boulder when I was small
Even though you were small
Because I thought it would make you feel big.
You are good at hiding
Especially in my pocket.
Boulder,
You are my favorite rock.
You are small and gray
And round and strong
And made out of rock.
You are older than me
But I don't mind
Because I know you won't go away
Because you aren't alive.
You're a rock.
And rocks don't die
Though they do erode.
But you won't erode in my pocket
Unless it rubs on you too much.