Day 9

 Ode to the Cold tap

Your cap is blue 

your mouth more limescaled,

your handle has more patina - used more

I suppose, than your all mid cons sister, hot.

You are the one who won't quite turn off

that drip drip drop all night, mimicking the action 

of water on rock that over millennia

would carve rivers from mountains

So far you have just managed to cloud

the white of porcelain ,

but can keep us awake-

the anticipation every time

of a teardrop fattening and falling

and a certain music.

One day, one day, a silence 

and a drip undropped - they'll fix you