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.
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