The Drop Of Water

I saw a drop of water,

I saw it many times.

But each time I saw it,

It told me a different tale.

When I saw it on the grass at the dawn,

With the rays of the sun, it shone.

The dew told me a tale of the morning,

A tale of hope, energy and fresh beginning.

When it was splashed out of a puddle,

By the little child who loved water, fun and muddle.

 then that was a happy, cheerful scene

And curious, cute, and playful he had been.

But when it fell from the eyes so forlorn,

A miserable, melancholy mood was born.

And it was the tale of the tear drop,

The tale of the despair that always precedes hope.

Also, the drop knew the tale of poverty

When it leaked into the hut, damp and dirty.

The water drop also saw the rich’s abode

Where it was neglected a lot.

The drop also told me a desert’s tale

Where people waited for it with their pail.

And there’s a tale of the flooded plains

Where it was received with complaints.

The drop of water has more to show

Of what it saw in its eternal flow,

As the pleasant shower, the noisy river, the calm sea,

And all the other forms in which it could be.