A Skipping Stone
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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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
A Skipping Stone, which
was posted on Dec 13, 2009 by
Sonny.
This is a solo poem.
About this poem
"this is about my sister."
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