Wishing Well Poem by Patti Masterman

A young girl walked too far one day,
And where she was, she couldn't say;
But found herself at the end of a trail-
Alone, with a great dark wishing well.

Voices echoed up its slimy sides
And whispers seemed to faintly chide:
She had one wish, and must not lose it-
Better yet, was the time to use it.

She thought of funerals she had seen,
And worse, the ones to which she'd been-
The angels shuddered when they heard her breath;
She opened her mouth, and wished away death.

Dark clouds roiled and lightnings flashed,
The wind rose up with a hideous clash,
And flimsy things stood, while the stout fell down-
And all the graves fettered dead, came out.

She began to run back across the moors,
Wanting safety behind her doors,
But the living aren't safe where the dead do walk,
And her lively presence, they began to stalk.

They chased her down cliffs and into ravines,
And over coasts, that the ocean gleaned;
They never let up, and that same night,
The poor little girl quite died of fright.

Soon as she fell, her wish revoked-
The dead back to sleep, as the living woke;
So none ever knew how close it had been
(Except some woke, after frightful dreams.)

They buried her in a lovely place,
Mourning her youth and innocent grace,
And none ever knew, so none could say
That death came back- once- to rule the day.