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

found again.

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

lost aircraft.

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

settle on.

On the beach, it rested, hopeful for another hand, your hand,

the Holiday Stone.