Skimming (Setting Geofrrey Free) Poem by Bill Smith

Alone at the waters edge
I spot the perfect pebble
Flat, round, slate grey in colour
Picking it up I cradle it in the palm of my hand
Toss it maybe six inches in the air
Watch flip like a gymnast on a trampoline
The water before me flat, calm
Its colour almost matching the pebble
I wonder how far?
How many times?
Turning sideways to the water I grip the pebble
Crouch slightly, draw back my arm
And throw
I count as it dips and rises
One, two, three
It appears to accelerate as the hops become shorter
I find myself unable to keep count
Until finally the pebble sinks without trace beneath the water
And I wonder
Wonder about my life and the path it has taken
Like the pebble rising and dipping
How it will dip one last time never to rise
I wonder
Will I leave a mark
Or become just a memory
A digital image and a name
I smile realising like the pebble
There will be one last rise
Before the inevitable final dip

Picking up another pebble
Cool, smooth
I give it a name
Geoffrey
Endow it with a history
Apologise for the name, (first one to come into my head)
Let it know it is the finest of fine pebbles
I shout to no one
This is it Geoffrey (resisting the temptation to call him Geoff)
Pull back my arm and send him bouncing across the water
As he takes his last hop I cry out
Bye Geoffrey
Smiling at my stupidity I turn to go
Stood behind me a small child
In his hand a pebble
He asks me politely

will you please throw Harry?