Ol' Men, Brollies And Mem'ries

The Title says it all!

Little old men ‘neath big black Bumbershoots 

Meandering about in the soft Spring rain

Savoring the mornin’ air and mayhaps...

Recalling their youth once again

The very air seems a blanket

Woven in lace, imbued with a trace

Of morning mist that insists

On caressing one’s face

With the tender touch

Of a maiden fair

Seems the rain 

That is wrapped In the air

That  gives the old men pause

To peer all about 

As if to see now…what once was

And now is without

Yet the rain stays the same

In it’s soothing refrain

And the old men with their brollies

Rheumy eyes and mem’ries

Remain meandering about…

…In the soft Springtime rain…

Author's Note

It's a little pretentious (not that that's a bad thing)