Water, so still it is a mirror,
rests at the bottom of this stone reservoir
Under my reflection it holds a myriad of wishes,
now its own memoir.
How many were carelessly tossed in on a coin?
How many were from broken hearts waiting for their
lovers return, their hands to rejoin?
How many were from weary souls who longed
for their earthly journey to end, they
just couldn’t find more ways to mend?
How many fell mingled with tears,
landing with a plash?
How many of the wishes immersed here
Who can tell,
but this forsaken wishing well?