it cascades with inundating retrospect,
In pants we caper around,
Questing for ice, melt with cold chill,
Happy childhood, in peace we live in our hood.
In retrospect,
It pelts with heavy patter,
Frolicking with intense ecstasy,
Reliving the past... A urge... A fantasy,
The coldness... A body boon
Sating our cravings with chirping patter.
The deluge unearths the pent up flood of memory,
Fluid is the past, trickling in very fast,
Never miss your pristine boyhood in your hood,
The puddle, the rivulet... Our Make-shift pool,
We savour, we wriggle in our collective puerile fool.
Inside we perch afterwards...with cold,
In multiple sheets we shake in folds,
Fluid is the past, trickling in very fast,
Never miss your pristine boyhood in your hood,
Albeit in age we have grown with a heavy frown,
Responsibilities assailing... With life we grapple in droves.
The provenance of this poem is traceable to a heavy rainfall and the relive of the past it evokes. This poem recounts the bliss and happiness that trail boyhood and the way and manner we frolicked in cascading rain. It was an experience that is always refreshing...the ice we swallow, the aftermath cold of the exercise, the cold in bed with multiple sheets to cover our body as we clatter and gnash our teeth in freezing coldness. It was a great hindsight. However, we have grown in age as we are assailed with responsibilities and try to sinew every nerve within us to make a name for ourselves. Rain and cavort were Siamese twins which nobody could divorce from us.
This is my second day of the 
Thank you for stopping by to read my poem.
I remain my humble self @ baboyed1000---a poet, linguist, a teacher, academic freelancer and political commentator, Ph.D student.