MUD PUDDLES

I watched them play “bunny hop”
over and into mud puddles.
They laughed and screamed —
laughed and screamed and hopped.

What fun for them
as the world turned
and it would keep on turning
and they might grow to disdain such activities
until they had children of their own
and if they disdained it then
perhaps not so when
their children had children.
Then they still might try to stop them
or they might smile, remembering,
That’s what I did.

This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply