On occasion I still go there, for it holds The magic of my childhood. I would visit it On summer afternoons. In slow motion and pick Out a coin for me to toss In the water with my wish. In the sounds of the Streams spraying upward, In the glint of silver coins through The water, I think of him. They remain unseen and Waiting, as requests from The devout sometimes await God's granting.
Wishes Are secular prayers.
I wish he were here. To access previous Poet's Corners, click The Poets's Rhymery.