Love is Lonely

Near the Wishing Well

Near the Wishing Well
4 (80%) 1 vote

Near the wishing well, our hands entwined,
Where stand we to see the direction of our lives.

Frustrated and angry with all that we have tried,
Im tired and dying, hoping to be revived.

A copper coin from me to you, to give to the well
To pay its due.
My hopes I toss in too,
Oh please! Please, make these dreams come true!

Beneath the calm and glassy pool, an army of hopes and dreams lies still,
Lulled to sleep in waters cool, entrapped within a frigid chill.
Cast in ages past and long ago by others in righteous act,
By lovers and dreamers or so, like brothers of a secret pact.

With bated breath and fragile heart, Im anxious for your toss.
Each moment casts a fiery dart, and this wait becomes a cross.

I wonder if your wish will be as mine.
Will our hearts merge to form a single line?
Or, and I dread the thought,
Will you commit a crime?
Will your soul be bought, will your cast be far from mine?

Of your choice I have no assurance.
Of mine, I’ve known forever.
I have loved you without insurance, and I will love you ever.

And as that golden hope floats from fragile fingers,
Toward the awaiting ocean of whispered prayers,
I know that in its sweeping, graceful arch there lingers
Abounding joy eternal, or torturous, painful cares.

Here near the wishing well, our hands entwined,
Where stand we to see the direction of our lives.