Wrestling the taps spout,
To answer gravity’s call,
A drop escapes a steel ring,
And commences free fall,
Speeding up to maximum,
It splatters on the floor,
And a clucking noise echoes,
As I am heading for the door,
Halting stride I turn around,
Scrutinize my surrounding,
The question in my mind being ,
Have I forgotten something?
Another splat convinces me,
A leaking tap's to blame,
I’ve all I need, Spectacles,
testicles, wallet, key chain,
But the drops fall in an eerie rhythm,
And silences in between bloat,
Like a slowing cascade of Chopin’s nocturne,
Keeps me hanging on every note,
Frantically I search for the,
Source of this furore,
Cause now the drops sound to me,
Like Psycho’s screeching score,
Finally tightening the threads,
I shut the plumbing percussion,
Then a vessel in the kitchen falls,
Giving me auditory concussion,
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