Wasted Words

The first few, fall into the deepest well and make the biggest splash The next ones fill the well prominently providing a bountiful of water to quench the thirst These ones are not needed, the well is overflowing, yet more of them to come There is less and less, there seems to be a sort of void The well is emptying by the day, only enough to fill a bucket The words dropped like coins for luck, yet have the opposite effect No more to be said, the well contains no more than a puddle But there is one hope left which originates from the clouds Let's wait for them, to create the beautiful sounds.