TO MY GROWN-UP SELF
ALL the days of my life as I sat dreaming on the fountain of my youth I dreamed of that day when you would come. The blooming of springtime over the garden of my youth where the fountain ever sang itself into circles that spread around the lilies of the pool, told me your coming was near. And when the immortal peacock that had dreamed all its life on the fountain of my youth had awakened from its dreams and preened the feathers of its breast, I was afraid that the peacock would never dream again, and the fountain's plashing waters would cease to hold the lilies in its ceaseless circles, and I would lose the dreams one dreams only at the fountain of life's springtime.
But when spring had come and you had sat beside me at the fountain of my youth, in your eyes I found youth immortal: for together we could dream with the peacock on the margin of your fountain and mine.
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