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.

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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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