Cupped hands
an inconsistent vessel
for every drip drip
The precious is forever lost

Spartan moments mirror a watery fate
Traversed, cascade they hurtle
some lashed to a Giant’s thigh
an endless waves breaker
And beneath,
feet mourn little for trampled free fallers

Tiles arranged in patterned logic
frame the arranged sequence for
another graveyard at 0 8 0 1
Splash is the cry of acceptance by absorption
whilst others are the
missed opportunities to reach a higher station.

The tap runs unchecked.
Soon they will be long forgotten
in the chaos of morning traffic
This period is late.
As am I.