At the Cybeles Fountain

I take in all we have assembled, as we stand here hand in hand, 
once again.
I take heart, for the next sexenial, plenty of ink still in
my pen.

In the splash of fountain water the lions raw for you to
now bloom.
Grasp the pearl, you have been the bride I'm always your
groom.

The streets they play a symphony, and in an orchestral backing
I'm aware we share the same fears and dreams.
And in Cybeles vocal cry,  I know I'll never let go
of the seems