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