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?