Drip, drop

Drip, drop.
One after the other,
they fall,
and fall,
and fall.

Drip, drop.
Here comes another,
it hangs,
it floats,
it halts.

Splish, splash.
So many, so little,
so quick to huddle;
together, they form a puddle.

Splish, splash.
Look. You see?
So lovely, so pretty;
it’s a festival of ecstasy.

Trance, enhance.
More drips, more drops.
They splish, they splash,
again, again,
and again.

The lights—they blind, they burn,
even stronger than before.

Trace, erase.
No drips, no drops.
The puddle flows,
and flows,
and flows.

The lights that soothe burn out
and darkness reigns once more.