Pebbled floor

Two hours, maybe more
Sitting on the pebbled floor
The challenge was set
And yet not so easily met . . .

To find a pebble with a hole
To string on a lace of leather
The shine, the hue, the caliber
Not of any import
Just the hole . . .

So we searched, burrowed, flung stones afar
Found rotting fish
Hunted deep and afar
Swept wide petterns around our feet
Dug low and wide around our seat

And I did unbelievably find
A seam of pebbles of that kind
And the joy that sprung from my core
Made every minute of those few hours
Seem worth a whole hole more!