Soft, soundless summer rain
I think it strange
No electric light show
No ruckus of thunder
Only misty cloak of heaven
Almost apologetic
Trying hard not to disturb
Kissing thirsty petals
Sating creation's desires
Subduing earth's clamor
If only for a spell
Pouring out puddles
As one child splashes
I remember another
Certain summers ago
Fearless, laughing at life
I lament his loss
Ponder what became
(He, being me)
Ofttimes
He would seek cover
But for this day only, he remains
Splashing, laughing at life
Some may think it strange
I think it strange
No electric light show
No ruckus of thunder
Only misty cloak of heaven
Almost apologetic
Trying hard not to disturb
Kissing thirsty petals
Sating creation's desires
Subduing earth's clamor
If only for a spell
Pouring out puddles
As one child splashes
I remember another
Certain summers ago
Fearless, laughing at life
I lament his loss
Ponder what became
(He, being me)
Ofttimes
He would seek cover
But for this day only, he remains
Splashing, laughing at life
Some may think it strange
I wonder why we don't play in puddles more as adults. I did with my nephew when he was little, and it was some of the best fun I'd had in years. And yet, several years later, I've yet to do it again.
ReplyDeleteMaybe next time it rains, I'll remember to go splash in puddles.
What an absolutely lovely poem...this is no wreck. Your first stanza is especially beautiful! I love "misty cloak of heaven"...
ReplyDeleteIt's the other summer rain--the one without T&L. This is an abridged version of my original comment which was much more critiquey
ReplyDeleteYour verse is lovely indeed! Thanks.
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