Loved Or No? Poem by Kathlene Ann

The cold lever creaks,
Moaning unhappily against the pulling fingers.
Over time thoughtless hands have-
Over and over again-
Pulled it from its resting place for their own purposes
And then returned it harshly to its home, an unwanted thing.
Metal but no longer shining,
The rusted lever releases liquid.
Cool, clear water runs clean from the tap
Drip dropp Drip
It falls unpredict-
Ably from
My tap and fills my
Glass 'till it's half-!