Water flows, carving it's way down
Down until it falls, falling away down
Landing first one, than a second
Followed by the third, and a fourth
More follow, gradually form a puddle
As more come the puddle will grow
'Til a puddle it can no longer be
But what does it now become?
A river? A lake? Less? More?
A trail left by each passage
After time dries each water drop
Leaving small crystals there
Crystal that taste perhaps of something else
© Kkiritoss