Loose ends were tied; the message sent,

and I walked on in merriment.

With ruddy arms I build a cairn

that lies a ways past yonder barn.

.

One piece of gold I have in tow,

my back faced to the winds that blow.

This growing monumental mound

will hide my grief on sacred ground.

.

A daily prayer, a daily grind,

a rock a day to ease my mind.

“To reach the sky! To find my love!

To live the dream I’m dreaming of!”

.

The brook once reached beyond these hills,

her streams left banks for bigger thrills.

A few returned to pay their dues,

whose lovely stones I can’t refuse.

.

To my surprise, when I arrived,

this little man did sit beside

the running water, clear and sweet,

biding his time, soaking his feet.

.

His clothes were rent, his hair unkempt,

his gaze locked in the days lament.

The solitary of the fool

’twas felt on my side of the pool.

.

He raised his head, and looked my way,

and nodded at me, as if to say,

“No need to fear, no need to hide.”

I crossed on over to his side.

.

He bade me, “Come! You need a rest!”

He drew his flask, “Please, be my guest!”

My guard withdrawn, my throat gone dry,

my pity for the man ran high.

.

The sun had yet begun to set,

so down I sat with no regret.

Refreshing wine he passed to me,

I gave a toast to harmony.

.

I asked him how he knew this place,

a smile flashed across his face.

Wrinkles deepened to disguise

the teary trails of Rainbow Eyes.

.

I waited long for his reply,

the hours slowly crept on by.

I could not let him get away,

though night be setting on the day.

.

“What are you thinking?”, I decried.

He seemed to take it all in stride.

I thought him dead, but then he rose,

and brushed the cobwebs off his nose.

.

Padding pockets, feeling around,

his fingers dug until they found

a little book that looked quite old,

filled with stories never told.

.

As he began to tell his tale,

“Reflections On The Wishing Well”

the elderberries cast their spell,

into the deepest sleep I fell.

.

Though dreams do come, they always pass,

there are no curtain calls at last.

My soul must surely understand

why ends meet up in Wonderland.

.

I must have slept away the night,

my brain was throbbing in delight,

with recollections blur and dim,

and I don’t see the likes of him.

.

An Elder tree had sheltered me,

I thanked him very graciously.

Methinks he knows why men grow small,

why life grows short, whilst tales grow tall.

.

In retrospect, I do reflect,

it was a case of self neglect.

My daily prayer, my daily grind,

a rock a day, I’d had in mind.

.

Then slowly it came back to me,

I had to jog my memory.

The words he read, the things I said,

fell into place inside my head.

.

‘Twas then I thought to check and see

if I still had my piece with me,

the piece of gold I keep in tow,

that brings me luck where’er I go.

.

The pouch hung empty on my belt.

You can’t imagine how I felt!

The trickster played me, this I knew,

I had to hope that dreams come true.

.

Bewildered and a wee dismayed,

aghast at just how far I strayed,

but that’s what happens when you roam.

I scoffed it off and headed home.

.

The skies grew dark to cloud my pain,

I paused to scan the woods again.

I’d no good reason to remain

in the throes of a driving rain.

.

The winds picked up, as did my pace,

a branch swooped down to slap my face.

This forest seemed to have the gall,

I wished to hang it on a wall.

.

The leprechaun was now far-gone!

The early morning storm moved on.

My good coat drenched, I hungered still

for daily bread, fresh from the mill.

.

The sun came out to play my guest,

and drove the rain off to the west.

Gazing upon the looking-glass,

this top performer showed his class.

.

The sky put on her Sunday best,

she wore the rainbow like a vest.

I fancied over those two ends;

one could land where my porch begins!

.

I had a hunch my luck had changed.

Priorities, I rearranged.

Forget the cairn past yonder barn,

I’m going home to spin a yarn.

.

By then I had the barn in sight,

my legs obliged with all their might.

The little man came back to mind.

Had he been here? What might I find?

.

I passed the barn, rounded the bend,

this journey was about to end.

At last, I caught sight of my home,

and spied a gift left by the gnome.

.

All in all, if truth be told,

there was no promised pot of gold.

But I was in for a surprise,

the gift came from ol’ Rainbow Eyes!

.

I ran towards my door to see

this bag, and what’s in store for me.

The leather pouch, a little tote,

held just three things, one was a note.

.

There also was my lucky charm,

I knew right then he meant no harm.

That piece of gold I always tow,

sure brings me luck where’er I go!

.

Then one last look was all it took.

I gazed upon his little book,

a book that he bequeathed to me,

a gift that soon would set me free.

.

Then down I sat to read the note,

the very last words my father wrote.

*

THE END

*****

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© Keith Alan Watson