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Click hereYou,
like crow,
with more stones than sense,
drop your pebbles
plink, plop, plink - plink!
Into my tank,
until the gorge rises,
rises, for our lips to meet.
Then wrath climbs out
- where you drink, sat waiting -
liberates libation from the urn,
a plink, plop, plink!
Drowns, with a spurned heart,
for the worse – a transformation.
Out climbs toad,
from stone-full urn,
freed from course
to change his curse -
to turn, turn, turn,
You, like crow,
with more stones than sense,
into shiny, precious,
princess wings.
Drop the pebbles, plop,
resting at the rim, set,
until the mere uprises
- reflecting beak unwet -
Come and see, Crow!
In golden bright guise!
Would you rather brave, now,
this gorge amid that,
the water from my heart,
the broken urn upturned,
or dance with wrath
at another pool in time,
at another pool in time,
cross my path.