In this city again
I gaze in awe
At the paper fountains
That haven’t changed a bit
Still folded
By the loving hands of an old woman who knows about
Too much
Depth of the world
Love and hate
That she enchants into the water
Too much
Still crafted
By the candlelight in an otherwise dark room filled with
Too much
Sadness and hope
Love and hate
That she enchants into the water
Too much
The water from the stone fountains
Is sickly sweet
It tastes
Artificial
Like the color yellow
Like the sound of tinkly bells
Like the feel of plastic
Like the smell of perfume
Like lies
The water from the paper fountains
Is bitter
It tastes
Real
Like the color green
Like the sound of drums
Like the feel of sand under my toes
Like the smell of sawdust
Like life
Still created
By the power of a fall thunderstorm that has
Too much
To cry about
Love and hate
That she enchants into the water
Too much