Pebbles We made a life of friendly in-betweens for years, in sips: like cocoa in the cold. A breakfast kiss, and maybe half an hour before I started dinner. One more smile while sleep sinks in, with pats and twining limbs.   You filled the interstices of my life like water in a glass already filled with pebbles - not just brimful but in stacks that balanced on the edge and sometimes slipped.   A busy life: I liked it. What went wrong? Perhaps just weather: all that water froze, and cracked the glass that held it. Or perhaps you didn’t like the pebbles: thought the glass   would hold more you without it. Which is fair. But I’m a glass of pebbles, and they’re there.... Kathryn Jacobs If you've any comments on this poem, Kathryn Jacobs would like to hear them.