Mirrored by his crowning achievement of no work truly done
The old man climbed into bed
The glories of his days
Wasted away
On teaching the youth
How to maintain
The fountain that seemed to never stop giving
During the hot summer months or the cold winter days
The fountain expelled thoughts in the form of elemental bliss
Thoughts being carried on bubbles
Foam and mist wafted through the air
Ocean spray without the sand grinding into the sole’s of feet
As he over looked the remnants of the quiet distilled night
The joy of such hours when the World finally would teach him
Set in
This was the moment he longed for
Eternity.
Copyright, 2010, Christopher Baird--all rights reserved.
Contact me for reprint/posting permission.
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