Ripples by T.L. Eastman 2010 Drip, drop, plop. Drip, drop, plop. Water drips from the faucet. Annoyance builds with each "op" sound that splatters into the aluminum double sink. This drip just has to stop. Drip, drop, plop. Drip, drop, plop. Water trickles down the creek bed. It dances around rocks, plays with crayfish, and rests in algae green pools. This drip we long to watch. Drip, drop, plop. Drip, drop, plop. Hands reach out to embrace the face that tries to hold back the rush; but the dam is broken, and tearful emotion has everywhere to escape. These two embrace and are washed in the flood that falls from each one's face. There is no shame in the shelter of this place. Don't mind the drip, drop, plop. drip, drop, plop. This river is one that love sought. T.L. Eastman Oct. 2010
Life is tough, but hope is tougher.