This is a rock I really love,
fits in my hand just like a glove,
my bookshelf is where it's sat,
pensive and grey like an old rat.

I found it on my twenty forth,
swimming in a Lake where I saw
this perfect rock I had to take
knowing that my day it would make,
and believe you me I was chuffed,
with this rock in hand,
and my hair all tuft.

It's shaped like half a heart you see,
the other half still wondering free,
Perhaps in Lake Buttermere,
It rests until it is held near
to a warm and constant beating heart
where it no longer feels apart,
or distant from its full self
much like the rock sat on my shelf.