Rocks Weaved

A rocky trail I walked,
A rocky mountain I climbed.
And at the top of it I sat,
And as I did I wept.

The tears fell between the rocks,
Where I thought they were lost.
But the wind had brought seeds,
And flowers the rocks weaved.

With rocks I made my home,
In my cot I slept alone.
On rocks I wrote these verses,
Dried the tears with my tresses.

The flowers are spreading,
The cracks they are mending.
My verses, once all in grey,
Are now tinted in a wide array.