A Skipping Stone

this is about my sister.

                                                                             A Skipping Stone

She is a skipping stone,

smooth and eroded.

Worn by her place

and time.

Molded by an environment

unceasingly weathered,

Until a wondering soul

holds her in his hands.

She soars through the air,

and glides across the water,

until she reaches

the other side

only to be held

by more capable hands,

and to be thrown again.

The End

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