Atlantis

Picking out the perfect stones,
A mix of auburn, teal, and muted browns.
Some round, other misshapen, tumbled by the waves,
Perfectly sized for the project.
Each selected with purpose, chosen by a broken tragedy.
Kisses of sweet and salt on each one,
Christened by the gulls and whales alike
To bring a princess home to her kingdom.
Like a chariot awaiting, the stones fit the
mold like sand fills the shore, each grain encompassing the view.
Placed neatly in a woven bag, twice to be precise, to reunite what was once stolen.
The stones will go back to Atlantis, escorting the returning princess to her final resting place.