The little kid

It rains hard, the streets flood,
The tall trees fall with a thud,
The clouds darken, the weather's cold,
I see that kid who's eight years old...

Splashing hard in the rain-induced rivers,
He realizes it's chilly, he shivers,
Yet, he's naive, he's an innocent,
Having fun is his only intent...

He splashes hard, his face becomes muddy,
His poor mother beckons him to study,
Yet, he plays with drenched pebbles and soggy sand,
His thoughts are spontaneous, his ideas unplanned...

He stops suddenly, gives his face a soft slap,
He rushes home with a series of child-like claps,
He returns moments later, His face full of glee,
Paper Boats!!...he releases them in the muddy seas...

He squeals with laughter, No one's happier, You'd reckon,
The boats' voyages last for but a trivial second,
The simple joy in the act - worth a lifetime,
Still lost in laughter, he breaks into a touching rhyme...

He picks up a stick now and beats the eddy water,
He loses his footing a bit, he falters,
He gets up again and beats the lifeless current again,
The water and kid fighting to enforce their reign...

It's a pleasant sight, brings a smile on my lips,
His uncanny acts bring forth a fleet of nostalgia ships,
Those golden days of juvenility, there was no time to care,
Those times of eternal joy, How I wish I was back there...