Skimmers Poem by Gert Strydom

As a boy he used to toss
flat rocks on the water
of the farm dam or nearby lake

watching them skim
over the surface
only touching here and there

and there was some magic
in the leaping
almost right across the water surface.

The wind whirls up tiny whirlwinds
running out before him on the beach,
a lonely boy is tossing shells into the air

which are blown back in a curling flight,
sand hits legs, arms and the body
stinging like sandpaper,

in the distance skimmers are eating from shells
near to green-blue hued pools,
with some flying low over the sea

and he flings his thoughts back to many years,
thinking again and again
about a world that has changed with time

how he changed from an innocent believing child
to the mature successful man
but his life is empty and he is here to find something.


[Reference: Skimmers by Ted Walker.]