Prose Poem: A Fountain

A Fountain

A fountain is a point of return if lost. The heart will embrace the sound of water. So pure is the flow that nearly all of it shows pearls of light. It’s remarkable when the basin is level and not an inch over, one spout covering the work of two. It’s a spring of hope if hot or cold but does not mean soap. Unprecedented change and the whole thing blackens, is broken, so the mending shows the culture is Portuguese. The blue and gold tiles can cause the whole thing to be a church.