He would play with rocks

different shapes and sizes

some skippers,

others too bulky,

heavy ones

and little pebbles.

He’d release them in water,

watching them float

making waves to help them

move along the clear floor,

the rocks were everywhere,

and he could play for hours

forgetting everything around,

only he and the wet sands

with rocky shorelines,

and summer vistas.

As a little boy,

he might only remember

these things,

the moments by the beach

where rocks everywhere

represented his own

quiet and safe world.

When a little boy,

he thinks little

of the consequence

of having to experience loss.

His world is in front of him,

waves play with his rocks,

he can choose his skippers

or the ones he lugs

with all his might

to make a big splash.

As a little boy,

he wanted somehow,

someway in the summertime,

to make a big splash.