Transformation          

The leaky faucet of sadness is heard
        most often at night
In the daylight, other sounds distract
        from its steady trickle.

Alone in the dark, it plumbs the depths
        with its repetition.
It echoes in the hollow drain pipe 
        one drip at a time.
                        
Who can takes its measure?

But let loss percolate into 
        the nooks of your being,
it transforms the bedrock, and leaves flowers 
        in the crannies. (in the spaces)

Margaret A. Dukes's Questions:

1. Which is better crannies or spaces?

2. Help with the ending in general, does it follow from the rest?