Idle Fountain

idle fountain
the tasteless familiarity wraps itself around my ankles
flat and uninspiring
vacantly promising a beauty I know you to be capable of

rather you impose glimpses of a reflection; brutal insincerity
warped by ripples of my own making
blame it on a trick of the light

there is a coldness I recognise
cold feet
worshiped by a congregation of castaway coins
as they grieve the empty wishes they once embodied

haven’t I stood here before?
waiting in a silence that speaks a thousand words
waiting for pool to turn fountain
for what is a fountain without the grandeur of its show

finally, the tastelessness spews from a sanctimonious spout
life flows into your puddle of inconsequence
captivating
convincing

the familiarity washes over me now
still just as cold
but this time refreshingly so?

I forgive the elegant incongruity of it all
quench myself while the fountain still flows
hoping when the water inevitably settles
I am faced with a fresh reflection; beautiful insincerity

Holly Rowsell – Year 13