poetryinmotion

BAREFOOT IN THE RAIN

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Yesterday when the old man looked out his window pane
he saw children playing in the rain

running through the puddles in the street
with no umbrellas…in their bare feet

and he harkened back to a time with pride
when he was a child playing outside

a time he wished he could repeat.
when imagination inspired his feet.

when he played and climbed and recited rhymes…
back when he had the indulgence of time.

as more drops fell upon his window pane
he wondered, when was the last time he played in the rain?

watching the children as they crissed and crossed
he wondered…at what point was his innocence lost?

then his inner voice said, “It isn’t gone.
it’s there in the rain…out on the lawn.”

so he left the safety of his window pane,
took off his shoes…and ran out in the rain.

and barefoot out there in the pouring rain
he was reunited once again

with an innocence…he thought was lost…
as on the lawn he crissed and crossed…

as he ran through the puddles out in the street
with no umbrella…in his bare feet.

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