You chose a beautiful stone; held its smoothness, smothering it entirely for
safe keeping, your lucky stone.
Then one day you skimmed it across an ocean. Never did it stop, that little
stone, not for one second, for it was unable to sink for fear of never being
Alone, it skimmed, alongside container ships and fishermen, over dancing
shoals, around islands, deemed lost.
It played with sea monsters, memorised the coordinates to shipwrecks and
The little stone also survived the greatest storms and skipped through
waters as flat as a mirror.
Only then did it pause for reflection. Then on it went, to find a perfect beach to
On the beach, it rested, hopeful for another hand, your hand,
the Holiday Stone.