Like the slick silver sliding
falling down to bring you up,
drizzle on the muzzle
shake it off
shake it off
and slipping and drifting
down the road of happy misery,
a little rain never hurt no one
but the witch in stories of olde.
I’m not melting but my eyes are crying
yet not from feelings
but the cleansing of the skies falling down,
t-shirt wet and pockets soaked
they look with tired eyes
not quite enjoying the foray
down the path of everyday
but the new sense and grey mornings
soaked through like chrome at the car wash,
we muddle along
in a puddle they piddle
and we laugh in the end
’cause ain’t much you can do
when the showers of life
rain down upon you
and the four amigos shake
shake shake it off
towels hung to dry
and another walk later
when skies are clear,
do we have to my dear?
Went for our morning walk only to be far enough down the street that when the skies opened up, we became soaked to the skin, the dogs looked at us like “let’s get home” so we turned around but not much could be done. Cold front is at the door, mid fifties tomorrow, good thing we weren’t walking in that cold, we might have turned to people and pup popsicles. Brrrrr…..fun though in hindsight…..