Skipping Rocks

The rocks had to be somewhat flat, and if you angled them just right, they’d skip-dance before they’d splat. Kids I knew would meet at a pond to see who could get the most skips. ’Twas but a game but of it I was fond. Orange-haired Willie was often winner, throwing with his knees on the ground. Compared to him I was but a beginner. Why do I remember this boyish play after sixty summers have burnt through? The friends I made are part of me today.