Skipping Stones
Round and smooth, cool in your palm,
you lean back and let them soar,
cutting cleanly down to walk on water.
They skip, shining wickets
glancing in the silver light slipping low.
You turn,
letting fly a stream of words,
impulsive and precipitous,
that drop into my heart one stone.
Copyright, November 10, 2017
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2017
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