A gentle streaming waterfall
Flows to that silvery pool
Nestled down and away
From most curious eyes
Save for mine is course

In the dull evening hours
I would sit on the walkway
Narrow and overgrown
That led down into that basin
Where the water collected
And flowed to some underground spring

There would I see him
Sitting on the water's edge
A seemingly week build man
In a set of well worn robes
That bore no symbol
Or design I could recognize

I felt after many visits
That he knew of my presence
As if his awareness reverberated
Up from the water And bounced
Off the close rock walls to locate me
Without his need to look

Yet I never spoke to him
Or descended further
Down those precariously worn steps
To that silvery pool below
For I knew ever so vaguely

That the one I had seen there
At the edge of those waters
I should not ever meet