Carl Newlen

Stone Fountains On Broadway

- July 10, 2009, 3:07 pm | Poetry

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The fountains on Broadway
did not often work when I walked
home from school with my sister.

I remember how one fountain
held a white stone flower
high in the air, how the calm water
would fill the petals, dripping
onto the old stones that began to pull
apart from years of use.

I liked my sister
when she took off her shoes,
stepping into its moss covered bottom,
how she`d reach out her hands
to gather in those drops,
like the soft leaves of a tree
reaching out for the rain.

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