Stormy Waters

He kicked the can on down the road.
Falling short of his goal,
it glanced off a rail and landed in a fountain.
Great. now he would have to fish it out.
Can't be accused of littering!
From a molehill, he had found, can be built a mountain.
A horse made its way along the rails, it was a foal.
Trotting across the nearby creek, a toad
leapt out of its way and hopped to safety in some brush.
His hand, wet from dipping into the waters, shook from the cold.

Now that he had the can again, what was he to do with it?
He smashed it flat with his foot and put it in his back pocket.
The light from the setting sun glanced off the water into his eyes.
He turned and headed for the nearest shelter.
There were signs of an impending storm in the air.
Crying suddenly.  He just cries and cries
every time he looks at all he has left of her; a solitary locket.
In theory, by this time he should have been over shit.
This life will go on.   He wills it thusly.
So, into the building he stumbles gratefully.

This was not his first storm, nor would it be his last.
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mindbringer, 18 October 2013