The Fountain

I journeyed farther into the deep wood
Where they said it had stood
A fountain.

Where they say, on top of a mountain
I ran to it
Just to take a little bit.

As I approached, I slipped
And into the indigo I dipped.

My skin was new and clean.
My eyesight was great and keen.
My hair white to blond

All because of that small pond.
My senses new
And I had a clue

That I had found that fountain
On top of that mountain.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem