Wishing weller

A sparkle clear
in the faint depths
returns a plink
rippling fainter still,
the voice
of the echo
 — I lean over
my calming shadow
a while longer, sunk
in its gash:
the pebbles
now rounded firm, ascended 
over the empty years
into sight, almost
within reach
through
the sunsheened 
looking-glass.



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