She placed her lips upon a stream
Of pure and crystal water;
That kids behind might push and shove,
Experience had taught her.

And so, she looked back as she drank,
The marble walls, a spectrum —
Then stepped off carefully, to better
Make room for the next one.

She studied, then, the walls up close,
As others tried the fountain;
The pair of steps, for some of them,
Were more or less a mountain.

Though I was seven, like the rest,
My memory can see them —
Alicia at the fountain on
A trip to the

Museum