skipping stones

you clap your hands together,
and exhale.
you wish them well.
all of them.
each and every one of them.
no need to go through
the list
and give names.
slowly they fade from your eyes,
a long
line fading into the fog,
into the shadowy
soothing light. in time,
all memories will smooth
themselves out,
become stones
and stories
that you can
hold in your hand
and skim across the pond,
letting them
gently splash
against the water,
then
sink forever, out of sight.