When I Dialed, Wishing Well

I found the fountain of youth
in a phonecall,
her voice a stream

of giggles leading me
to flowing topics,
crisp sparkling words

running still, deep,
washing dusts of history
free, my map adrift

in the rush
of her sweet-water breeze,
lost to the ages there,

at the feet
of eternity no need
for retracing

steps, as,trickling
in my ear
simple purities

pour forth, gentle
as a spring snowfall,
each draught cool

as fresh shade,
her sentiment I call
my everglade.

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