Skipping stones over a glassy pond
reminds me a little of you.
It was so crystal clear at first;
you loved me, I loved you too.
Then came those growing ripples,
when perfection took a dive,
when the first stone was cast,
concentrically, we were less alive.
Consenting, we chose to carry on
but mostly round and round,
until we could no longer see
the reason to stay bound.
No matter who was skipping them
the water lost its placid sheen,
when love, no longer was a crystal lake
and the skimming woke our dream.
Oct. 13, 2012
Turtle Point Art Gallery SL