Skipping Stones
With every tap across the lake,
Ripples are shot across.
The waters cheerily wake,
They wait another toss,
- Then another toss is made.
It is seen bouncing further by.
Waves of merriment parade,
And consume the beholder’s eye.
The lake dances in the moonlight,
A sight where felicity bestows.
There isn’t a happier sight -
Than when we are skipping stones.
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