Fountain’s Fortune

Washing places made for making of

Lucky penny tosses into wishing waters

Bright requests held in captive disarray

As if their tumultuous moment’s poetry

Fallen into serene pools would requite

Spirits of desire from a vagrants bath

These asking cups of would be sea

Need enough to fill oceans with coins

Want for trading places with mountains

Flood requests into deserts for tomorrow’s

Fountains of dreaming ceremonial rituals

And I sleep with my cents’ worth always

Like waiting isn’t in vain but only sojourn

On the way to breath from respite beneath

Where II’ve cast myself in hope for my loveImage


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