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Poem

"My dear skipping stone," I gently asked.
"What tales lie within your flitting flight,
As you tippy-toe skip over the water so fast?"
What lessons can you tell us, Oh shiny one so bright?"

"Well firstly, it's in the shape of stone."
The skipper's learned response began.
"Choose a flat smooth one, from the wet river zone,
Where smooth stones have collected in the skidpan."

"The next trick is the way you grip the disk."
"Curl your index finger around it, lock it with your thumb."
"Then you're ready for the deft wrist flick,
which will ensure a skip, skip, skip outcome."

"Like everything, it takes practice to get it right."
"A smooth calm water surface helps a lot,
as waves can smite your stone with such delight."
"Gobbling stones is the wave's unfair, cheap shot"

"Life is like a skipping stone's pace."
"A clutch of fleeting moments, a flip of flings in the sun."
"Embrace each leap with joy and grace."
"For skipping time, like ripples, is all too soon done."

With that, the skipping stone grew still,
Its wisdom etched within my being.
The stone sank gently into the water with all its skill,
Revealed to everyone and given true meaning.

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