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Well of Love
In a cool glade stands a well, its brickwork time and fortune rimed
The aged structure steadfast waits in silence undisturbed
Couples passing through the dell remark the pitch with droppings grimed
Pass on with saddened smiles and happy voices quickly curbed
The winch is rusted all to hell, the bucket's handle broken
The days long past when succour sought within its clammy shaft
What livid tales the fount could tell, though not a word is spoken,
Of love ignored, of hopes that died and unrewarded graft
Though oft abused the well has been when giving of its waters
Drawn not for thirst yet other tasks command its precious prize
For fighting fires and keeping clean; a drop saved for his daughters
Whilst all about the withering grass from heat of anger dries
Yet still down deep the pool is clear, its welling source untainted
The water fresh as e'er it was despite being long untried
Stepped onto stage a maiden fair, her short-cropped hair bright painted
Gold in the sun and in that ray the damaged well she spied
While walking slow cross blighted sward the lady's face is saddened
With that first glance alone she understands the poor well's plight
Then gently smiles, her love outpoured, and all around are gladdened
Beneath her steps the grass springs new; shrugs off soul winter's blight
Soft summer rain falls in the glade like tears of love awakened
And piercing shafts of sunlight pure illuminate the green
Under her charm the well remade and all was bent is straightened
The maiden's hand removes all trace of distress there has been
My well is deep and filled anew with 'freshing waters running
The rusty winch now smoothly runs, the bucket's handle whole
The water drawn refreshes you at end of long day's sunning
Its flavour pure, tasting yet more becomes your lifelong goal
Like any well, when water's drawn, seems not a drop diminished
The well of love cannot be plumbed by buckets large or small
My love for you from its first dawn I knew would ne'er be finished
Though limitless in its supply, still you will have it all.
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Synopsis
As you will see, I'm quite a fan of allegorical poems. I think this one's pretty obvious though, so I'll leave it to you to work out.