Looking through poetry sites recently, I came across this little gem, "Faucet Song", written by Sarah J. Sloat. She is a poet worth following. She keeps a blog, The Rain in My Purse, and there are links to her poems from there, too.
Here is part of "Faucet Song":
The faucet is the saddest instrument,
its only song: de-plete, de-plete.
All night, its little fists ball up and fall.
Dud percussion makes
a shudder of the sink,
makes the soap bar blink
from the milk film of its dish.
For the entire poem, look at it as originally published in the journal Prick of the Spindle.
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