Drip, drip, drip.
It wouldn't cease to leak,
The pail was nearly full but yet,
My thoughts mere turned to bleak.

Why did I choose to fill this pail?
This pail when filled with water, fails?
My thoughts cannot but question why?
How have I this time failed?

Perhaps I should plug up the cracks,
Fill in the gaps with melted wax,
Perhaps someway, maybe somehow,
The leaking will be laxed.

Drip, drip, drip.
Yet the sealant seemed too weak,
The wax if nothing only caused,
The leaking sounds to peak.

Perhaps I should find out the cause?
Defeat the devil at its source?
Or maybe deafly thread the path,
Without this dull discourse.

For it was obvious from the crack,
There'll be no use in turning back,
Refill this pail, it'd leak again,
The skies were turning black.

Drip, drip, drip.
I beg the pail to tip.
Empty its contents on the floor,
An empty pail can't drip.

Perhaps when all the water's spilled,
The pail'd be dry, my heart'd be still,
For if it gets the drip to cease,
Silence will be my fill.

Bravely now I tip the pail,
Released my hold, no hope for bail,
The water gladly gushed upon,
The tattered cobble trail.

Drip, drip, drip.
The mental echoes speak.
The pail in silence, victory mine;
An empty pail can't leak.

"Remember the chunner days."

"The wait makes the waited for, worthwhile."