Skipstone Adventure
We stood by the river’s patient edge,
Where time curled softly like mist on water,
And the world felt young again—
its troubles paused, its noise hushed
beneath the whisper of drifting currents.
In our hands, smooth stones,
little worlds polished by endurance,
symbols of journeys shaped
by pressure, turbulence, and grace.
We held them like memories,
cool against the warmth of our palms.
With a gentle swing,
we released each stone—
watching it skip, dance,
kiss the surface again and again
as though refusing to sink too soon.
And in those brief, bright leaps
we saw ourselves—
defying weight, bending fate,
choosing motion over stillness,
courage over fear,
possibility over surrender.
Some stones sank quickly,
some traveled far.
Yet each made ripples,
quiet circles that spread outward
long after the stone had vanished—
reminding us that even small acts
can change a wide world.
Skipstone Adventure—
a place, a moment, a truth:
that life is not measured
by how long we stay afloat,
but by the ripples we leave behind
as we cross the waters of our time.
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