Empty

An overturned bucket... am I.
I am the bucket taken into a young man's arms, carried to a well, and lowered by a string. I am the bucket that drank up the water and carried it dutifully. I am the bucket that weighed the boy down on his triumphant return, only to be set aside. I am the bucket that sat, and sat, and sat. I am the bucket who was given the news that the precious liquid which I carried could save a life. I am the bucket that was overturned, emptied on the thirsty dirt, and hated for my inability to hold the water that could have saved a life. I am the bucket who was rushed back to a dry well. I am the bucket that was cast aside in fury, empty.
Empty.
I am the empty bucket that could have saved a life, if I had not spilled the water on the ground.
                                                                                                                                                     ML