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The golden rain of childhood -the showers of flowers-

Ah those happy golden days! Where are they at this hour?

Thrilling to the little things, laughter spilling over,

Happiness surrounding us, as we rolled in the clover.

Lying back, we gazed at clouds, grass stalks between our teeth,

Heard the crickets and the flies, felt the dry grass underneath.

How we loved every minute in the soft golden rain,

When our sturdy umbrella was the innocence of pain.

Then the years fast added up, and the curtains of age

Were drawn shut across the past, and "Too soon, too fast", we rage.

Now the household is quite still, and in the firelit dark

I think of your touch, your kiss, and remember the sweet mark

Of golden rain.