The Fountain

I wonder if the fountain knows,
that which transpired days ago:

Ants marched its perimeter of moss covered stone;
Chickens sipped from its water drip;
Algae thrived in the pool below;
And a girl slipped when stepping on its concrete lip.

I wonder if the fountain knows,
the solace that it now bestows:

The sound she hears from its water flow;
The sense of wet from a stray droplet;
Her finger skimmed its reservoir;
As she lay on its ledge and let her mind forget.