rippling pebbles beneath the fountain
fine sculpted of stone and grey,
blessed with a velvet green cloak of old honour,
hail the knight who stands tall today
on velvet stone horse, copper blue eyes,
rusty blue sword and blue skies.
my fountain sings a song of sorrow
of wishes unwhispered and sighs.
my fountain, wish me a world of white
paper cranes that melt quiet into snow.
fountain, wipe dark chalkboard clean, like night skies,
in starry dark fountain below
and begin again from nothing at all.
fountain, we’re swept into fears,
too far beyond tomorrows, my fountain,
there’s time now for sorrow and tears.
fountain, my white paper cranes are awaiting
for castles of pride crumbling down
fountain, when all that is gone, who’s waiting?
who, then, will balance the crown?
my fountain, when all is gone and returning,
and i stumble to you in the rain,
fountain, won’t you, over pale copper blue,
let me whisper to you again?
T. E. Pyrus