pump, fountain, pump handle

Wishing Well

There is a wishing well on the edge of Yore’,
And all who enter there,
Are always happy and never sad,
And carefree and always fair.

He longs for this place beside the sea,
Where seagulls sing the familiarity,
Of dreams awaking and breath-forsaking,
The sadness and decay.

If only he could reach this place,
His chains would fall at last.
No more burden for long-lost love and no more love,
For long-lost burdens, to chase the day away.

It was long and sometimes lonely,
His trip to the Yore’.
He knew no one else could do it,
It was his alone.

He arrived at the wishing well and all he could see,
Were the why-for and what-ifs of all his fantasies.
He tried all he could and still he fell short,
Of all he knew he could be and wishing so much more.

What will happen as he lays himself to sleep?
Will he remember who he is inside?
Will he remember me?
Love, Yore’s