ThE SimPLe RhYmE

ThE SimPLe RhYmE

In the terror of the night
she dances
lightly under the street lamp
on top of the puddles
full of sadness
full of life, she celebrates  

Feeling each raindrop
crashing down around her
emotions, swirling
she spins
again
in precise concentric circles
as the old man on the corner
gleefully watches, and grins  

She can be no more sad than the flower
whose petals open to feel the sun
on her windowsill each mourning
for life is but love for oneself
And love, but a gift to be shared  

I settle not for the masterpiece
but for the struggle to make it so
To live a full life
among my fears
and the rancor of the streets  

She prefers to dance
to live to let the emotion out
turn the rage into love
And radiate  

The old man just laughs and laughs
He knows the secret of his age  

And as I watch her dance
Share her pleasant smile
the metaphor strikes three
and I finally understand
the simple rhyme

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