Rain Drops

The simplicity of enjoying the rain-memories.

RAIN DROPS

"Rain drops!" cried the little girl,

and stamped tiny feet with joy.

Little hands flew onto her little head

as scattery drops patted her

gently.

There was glee in her voice;

no fear or need to evade

the little drops that fell

portending-only perhaps-heavier ones:-

that did not come.

Just a few sprinklings

of rain; that fell to bring joy

to a small, gentle heart

taking pleasure in a thing so simple-

rain.

Her little dance did not last long.

Nor did the rain.

The family had gathered at the park

to celebrate a birthday.

One guest-with the look of one

well-acquainted with defeat,

sat alone on the bench,

watching.

He smiled at the little girl's dance,

enjoying her joy in the rain.

His mind cast back to

another small child-a boy,

very small, only just walking.

He had been standing

in the middle

of the lawn

When heavy drops fell

Heavy drops portending heavier ones-

a storm-that did come.

Not knowing what these were

his hands flew to his head,

making little rabbit ears,

trying to keep off the rain.

Stamping his little feet-unsure, uncertain.

The man had gone to him,

picked him up,

taken him under shelter,

Reassuring, explaining, calming.

The boy smiled and enjoyed

the sound of rain on a tin roof-

then.

That had been long ago.

Now the man watched

as the little girl,

relishing the damp grass on her bare feet,

ran off to play.

He hoped there would always-

always-be someone

to shelter her should a storm come.

To protect her and be there-

for her-as he had not been there-

for him.