Stone.

Polished stone, cold and gray.
It waits for winter to chip away its surface,
expects that the cold willcome, but will it feel?
Immobile and selfless it lies,
hollow and inexpensive it remains.
Not a precious gem, but a common rock,
it is unlikely it will ever be moved.
Standing tall and proud, waits -
They placed it here.
As a hardened piece of earth it serves its purpose,
it marks this spot, though there is no longer anyone to visit;
She lies beneath it in waiting.