Socrates was wrong

One needn’t tell the whole story
And I wouldn’t try
What rocks discuss at lunch
Socrates called nonsense
A man’s musings on paper
We call a ballad
It was a day for both
I actually heard them
The rocks I mean
There were four of them
What is he doing on top of big head?
The other asked,
The answers were plenty!
Socrates was probably right.
In truth this ballad had my attention
Didn’t plan to though
Certainly not the typing
A noisy evening it was
noisy for meaningful thought
Lovely setting though
But not for a lone figure
It was three of us that came
But three was a crowd
The rocks didn’t appear to mind me
So I asked for a seat
Until then at least!
Best place for thoughts; M park
Silence spoke volume
Swelling possibilities
one thought changes everything
Everything but the rocks
A hard tale to tale
A heart’s tale
Felt with few words
But then I learnt the ton
The tale of the rocks
They would be always there
Best to write once the lesson is learnt
So I penned the tale
The tale of the rocks
Some things never change
My day’s lesson
“Let’s go now”; said my friends
I gasped at their sound
No, not my friends. the rocks
It came in whispers,
Some keywords struck;
“H-complex” ,“cytokines” “co-modulators”
He chose the wrong object, Socrates I mean
No, not amongst rocks
Some things never change
Some people do
The rocks tale.
Socrates wasn’t right