Rebecca
A solitary woman holds a small
urn jug
Her gentle hand clasped to her
breast
Shy eyelashes caress her pale
stone cheeks.
Standing for centuries before
us...
Guarding the cobblestone way.
How many eyes have set
themselves upon this fair lady?
Decay and corruption have not
yet possessed you.
O gentle woman who guards
the fountain at her feet.
Quiet, still, at peace.
You conceal the stories of man
in your heart.
I am a mere mortal to come
worship at your feet.
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