Fountain of Youth
Ozark bound, fifth day of the week
On narrow state roads, winding and steep
Town through town sparse and sprawling
Like dot to dot of a preschooler's drawing
Our destiny reached sweet moment of truth
Wading up the stream to our fountain of youth
In the sweltering heat on limbs overhead
Copperheads shading in camouflaged beds
Crystal clear water slippery rocks for fun
Spring water so cold it leaves you numb
Brother in tow we holler and hoot
Swimming the pool from our fountain of youth
Fifty years later my dog for a friend
With roads behind our journey begins
Wading the stream with shadows of old
No brother to play with no hand to hold
Precious memories of childhood facing the truth
Standing alone at our fountain of youth
:In memory of my brother
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
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