a poem for rowena-afar

The water goes from the bowl
down into the earth's soul
the pipeworks go where no-one sees
over mountains and under trees
into the factory where its dealt
anything in it, now doth melt
now turned into fuel for cars
now the water flows into bars
the bars transport it back to me
in which I use it frequently
I do my business and let it flush
now to the forests, to make them lush