The seal is tight at first, nothing will leak through.
I blink--a drop spills unsuspected.
I look around, proud of my heavy bucket,
One more drop, then its followers--neglected.
As I smile and look over my high nose,
I am unaware of the slight stream flowing below.
The drops have become a steady motion,
Laughing at my credulous satisfaction.
Caught up with my self-proclaimed worth,
Never missin' my chance, flingin' a smirk to the pitiful.
Over the years, the small hole wore big,
Now a once brimming load has truly lost its pull.
Seeping out my bucket, drizzling on the earth.
What becomes of the drops? Flowers or mud?
Look back, learn and reflect. Look forward--decide.
You own the depleting water, make a flower bud.
Moments dwindling, time spiraling,
What's left? What have you received in turn?
Through my fingers--seconds trickling,
Gone forever, nothing might buy their return.
