The Watcher and the Well

Tracing ridges with your fingers

The wishing well shall rise

Every rock laid with stone

Carves a future mind.

Recalling back and coming clean

The truth will rip from tongue,

Every message made in vain

Taken for granted when you want.

Eyes mesmer in TV light

The cellar bright but dim

Hues of blue misconstrue

The static noise of him.

Scratching dirt with a message

Lost in watered drips,

The coin you toss 

To where it drops

Empties out a watered wish.