Pay It Forward

Our fervent hopes and utmost of desires,
coins scattered in the fountains of our youth,
to rust, until each finally acquires
patina of decay, no longer smooth.
Turned green with bitter envy and regret,
abandoned, left for worthless with their kind,
forgetmenots one's destined to forget,
and childhood dreams that once were top of mind,
but having long since lost their shiny luster.
Quick, toss those well worn flipflops off your feet --
assemble any courage you can muster,
and wade into that fountain, leave the street
for water that is cold enough to burn.
Now grab yourself some coins, feel hope return.