Skipping Memories

You put your hat on

because now you are bald

You help me look for pebbles,

small for a three-year-old.

You also look some for your own,

the flatter the better, I know.

-

You show me how you skip stones,

so many that they get lost far away from the shore.

I tell you that you would be the world champion,

that you more than 13, which is the highest number I know.

You look at me as I imitate you,

as I throw my rocks into the blue.

--

You tell me that when I grow up,

I will be better than you.

That you didn't even skip stones at the age of 3,

and you tell me that you will be always looking at me:

Like Mufasa to Simba, as we agree.

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Every time I go to the lake,

this same memory awakes.

I skip stones with your technique

and like Mufasa and Simba we speak:

I tell you that though we are fine,

having you here would be divine.

But that the little time we shared

was enough for memories unpaired.

That from the sky I fell your protection

Skipping my stones in the right direction

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