Looking at a fountain.

Sitting, hand in hand,

looking out the French doors,

listening to the fountain,

and the birds singing;

watching the first butterfly of spring

fluttering between the roses

and some white eyes come

washing and drinking from

the water in the fountain,

how good life feels now.


11 thoughts on “Looking at a fountain.

    • Hi Suzy, is it already that bad over there, aren’t you going onto winter time soon. Genevieve had just come out of hospital, and I switched on the fountain, and had a short time together watching the birds and butterflies, before I had to hep her back to bed, which I hoped to write up as a poem, but it got written a few days later, due to helping Gen. :-).

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