This fountain stands in a plaza in Old Town and this morning, while Alan and I walk the square, local birds play and preen in the droplets.

Birds enjoy water but they don’t have soap dishes or towels. Their melodies sound so much better than my shower singing.

From their songs, I don’t think they have a care in the world.

At the moment, enjoying Old Town where we used to visit when little boys, neither do we.

Where you grew up is full of good memories and familiar scenes, and, if I could sing like these birds, I would sing all the time.

For now, I make do with singing in my heart.

 

 

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