Wednesday, July 9, 2008

THE FIRST DROP

My daughter wrote this, and I thought it was lovely, so evocative of summer and childhood, and so full of nostalgia. She gave me her permission to share it.

The First Drop

I could still see the heat
shimmering waves on the pavement
I wouldn't have noticed but
the smell is unmistakable
Everything clean and perfect
It reminds me of home
of perfect outside summers
standing on the deck
to see thunder and lightening
of being eight again
barefoot, grubby, sticky
That smell is time to go home
paper dolls and coloring books
strawberry leather and homemade popsicles
inside games and a fort made of pillows


I want to know if it smells the same everywhere
I think not
Home is magical trees
with perfect rainbows stretching mountains
But, I wonder
does your rain smell like home?


2 comments:

freebird said...

I think this is a great poem. A good rainy day reminds me of playing on our front porch with my dolls as I waited for my birthday in November to arrive in southern California. The other thing it makes me think of is rain as life - when it rains here in the desert you can smell it coming from far away and it's so necessary.

EyePopArt said...

That was so beautiful, it brought tears to my eyes.

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