The Well

Kind of a poem or a really short story about a childhood memory that still exists in my mind.

It was at the fifth child being born that my parents                                                                                                                  Decided to cover the well (I was the fourth).

Before this time, my brothers, sister and I,

Would teeter on the broken cement covering

And peer down inside.

We would throw rocks through the expanding crack,

And count the seconds

Until we heard a splash,

And quickly tried to solve equations of how far,

The water was away that day.

My dreams were often filled with

The broken rusted ladder that led down

To a place I could never see, and imaginary creatures

That called this place home.

For safety’s sake, it was eventually covered,

But I know that it still exists.

Reviews

[Pete]

cool write. i've always been fascinated by anything to do with water. brings back youthful memories of rock throwing. you probably dropped a few wishes into it.

[Amanda Renee]

Thank you for your review and reminding me about the beauty and magic about rock throwing, so many memories of skipping stones (that should be a new poem prompt)