Sunday, December 2, 2007

How did I grow too old to dance in the rain?

This afternoon, heaven suddenly opened up and poured down rain, sending pedestrians scrambling for cover. I slipped into a nearby coffee shop and found a table by the window. As I slowly took each sip, I stared out, waiting for the rain to stop.

Outside, among the rushing crowd, a little girl, with her eyes closed, face lifted skyward, and arms extended, swirled around and around taking in the sensation of the falling water drops upon her face. When she stopped spinning, she started to hop from puddle to puddle, laughing and giggling as frustrated shoppers rushed pass her.

Suddenly, her mother, with tote bags on her arm, ran up, grabbed the little girl by her hand, and took her away, scolding the little girl as they hurried pass the coffee shop window.

How did I grow too old
To dance in the rain?
When did life rob me
Of that pleasure?

Why did music stop
Running through my vein?
When did I stop hearing
Every measure?

How did I become blind
To life's simple joys?
When did thunderclouds
Stop smiles from shining?

Why am I too refined
To run like little boys?
When did I aged so
From my own whining?

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