The idea of the well
Throaty in its store
Secrets a childish laugh
Come pulled up full
Then spilled
Into a fallen mirror
Swallowed by a wish
Of all the times
I sought you here
Now remains a fountain
I do not wish to touch
For fear of going dry
But springs don't mind
Their minding
And water seeks
Its holes
Discovering
Its store
Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013
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