November 7, 2011
It is raining outside as I look through a window,
it reminds me of the times when I was smaller.
I would go outside with my rain boots and coat,
running for any puddle or soggy spot in sight.
There were no second thoughts or doubts,
and I kicked up water as I flew through them.
While I was marching around they'd cloud up,
all muddy with the soil from below.
The streets were splattered with rings and spots,
of oil from cars, creating a rainbow effect.
When I decided I was done with my puddles,
I stomped across one of those streets.
The deepest ones were always gone through first.
(After all, those made the biggest splashes.)
Then jumping harder in the shallow ones,
I hoped for the same effect.
I also got wet other ways besides puddles.
Branches on the trees, heavy and wet with rain,
would drip huge raindrops on my head.
Not caring of course, I continued on.
Mom looked at me and shook her head,
by that time I was soaked, and muddy.
The coat and boots did not help at all,
but to me that was not a surprising thing.
Absorbed in my fun, I never noticed anyway.
After Mom warned me about getting sick,
she told me to come inside and get dry.
Reluctantly I looked around, and left.

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