My son's poem

 A  PEBBLE  AT THE EDGE
See that pebble at the edge of the hill;
In midst of the stream's gushing thrill .
It was moving like a prey of kill ;
From the dreadful water of silent chill.

The stream did rush above its skill ;
But the pebble did tremble in its frill.
And at last the pebble lost its will ;
To end up on the valley for a silent still.......