One Wish

Dead roses bowed in silent homage around a wishing well

where a withered bride watered fragile flowers

with wept tears, flowing down fragile stems.

It was not that flora could not flourish in the area.

In years past the secluded alcove had been

popular amongst young lovers, who sauntered through

Eden; eager to taste that fruit which was once forbidden.

At present, the path leading to the graveyard of so many wishes

was marked by a trail of dead, brown grass

leading to a wood that is remembered only by ghosts

still haunting the place.

The wishing well has long gone dry

and if there were a penny in the bottom

none could now tell,

for its depths have been forgotten

with those whom had built it.

The bride often wondered if all the

old masons whom constructed the well

were dead, along with the lovers who’s

names were etched into the brick for

she never saw another soul come to make

a wish like she made each day, shortly after the

rising sun.

She did not toss well earned money into a fanciful hole

for love’s fleeting fancy, 

nor as a remembrance of

the passing of her dead husband.

In truth, he was alive and thriving

but she had no idea he would tarry on so long,

each of her prayers to go on before him

had gone unanswered day after day.