The Old Men And The Well, Poem by The barefoot poet..

I came here to the old well today,
i remember my childhood way,
id look down the deep dark well,
those stories grandad would tell,
monsters and ghost like to dwell
in the deep and darkness of the well,
he would drop a stone eyes closed
and breath held, until the splash,
then just as soon be on his way,
i picked my stone and held it tight
closed my eyes and held my breath,
we jumped together until the splash,
wow, so many of the best round stones
all just waiting there on grandads knee's