Their mirrored images danced upon the breeze,
Billowing, rising, reaching full sail,
Then fluttering, rippling as they turned through the wind,
Turbulence waving away their glory.

The stone hit the island rock
Then bounced into the Old River,
Rippling the foil surface into a lilly's tidal wave.
I lost - again!

The flag dropped, slowly, steadily.
The wind picked up its glory and rose it to the sea.

The ripples never worried me;
I always knew the mirror would return and
It would be my go again.