Oh to be a child again!
Reveling in a thunderstorm.
The multitudes of juicy, urgent drops,
Pelting my face to a glistening ruby gleam,
Rinsing my hair to a gleaming ebony sheen,
Soaking my soul like nourishing comfort soups,
Drenching and rinsing my body whole.
Oh to be a child again!
Silly dizzy days and heavy restful nights,
Dashing through boughs in rain-washed groves
Unabashed joy and happiness resounding.
Chasing the rushing rain that splatters me
Like thousand hugs of one dear one,
I deeply loved and did adore.
Oh to be a child again!
Memories of rainy days in playful mirth
That in those heady days were taken for granted,
By good fortune were hoarded unintended.
That blessed dam now often bursts,
On witnessing a thunderstorm,
Pouring out a flood of mixed emotions.
Oh to be a child again!
Fretting not that the chilly rain and gritty wind
Would wet and soil my Sunday bests.
Now I fear the rain will cause a nasty cold,
Or wash away the telling flaky layers
Of makeup I ply on, to hide my pain,
Or my vain attempts to tame my thinning locks.
Oh to be a child again!
That the scars that mar my mind and heart
And hinder happiness in life today,
Be wiped away, and health restored, from
A rainy hour that would scour and cleanse,
And flush away like the dust on leaves,
The weights that drag me down in life.
Oh to be a child again!
The ironies of life that now I perceives so well.
The thunderstorms I scarcely noticed then,
They dyed my mind and body young.
Now, thundery drop for drop and splash for splash,
My mindful senses absorb in surround mode.
And I thank the Lord for timeless thunderstorms.
