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Solid as Stone
As I sat there
Beside it
Its warmth
It seemed to glow
From the inside
Its roughness
On the surface
But still wanted to be with it
Strength
Enough to fly through the hardship
Without a scratch
The working men
Continued clanking away
At their harvesting
I understood a beat
Beat of a heart
Of the rock
Of my mom
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The mining area where men were hard at work harvesting rock, solid rock off of a mountain. This is done in India because concrete is more expensive and stone is found in many places. I sat on a rock off to the side watcing them, while the sun warmed my skin, when I thought of this poem.