The Joy of Puddles
With a child’s eye,
A puddle is a magical thing.
An invitation to stamp on in,
Black tarmac, it has just been raining.
The sun comes out and shines into the clear water.
Reflecting pictures of the clouds
And blue sky above.
Reminders of days when tadpoles swam
In other deeper puddles.
Even though age is crowding on in,
The magic of puddles remains.
Maybe it is the idea of renewal.
Nature washing away the dust of the past,
And replacing it with a new freshness.
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